To Catch a Camden (13 page)

“And that was when you met the Bronsons....”

“When I got the house, yes.”

“How long have you actually been divorced?”

“A year.”

“And since then? Have this guy and his family left you alone? Or are we at risk of a drive-by shooting sitting out here like this?”

“It’s pretty dark back in this corner, so I think we’re safe,” she joked. “No, once it was over, I stopped existing for the Grants. I saw my former mother-in-law with one of Elliot’s sisters and two of his brothers at a restaurant not long ago and they all looked right through me, as if we’d never met.”

“I’m sorry,” Derek said sympathetically.

“It’s no big deal.”

“Not only for you getting snubbed by your former in-laws, but for all of it.”

Gia laughed. “Well, that’s more than Elliot ever said.”

Derek bent the elbow of the arm resting on the slat behind her so he could bring one hand forward and move her hair from the front of her shoulder to the back of it. Once he had, his fingers returned again to brush a few strokes against the side of her neck as he peered into her face, studying her. His feather-light touch eased her tension and replaced it with something tingly and titillating that scattered through her like glitter.

After a few minutes of studying her as if he was searching for something, he shook his head and said, “How that guy could watch TV or text or play video games rather than look at you, talk to you,
kiss
you...I’m finding it hard to understand.”

“You? The king of losing interest?” she teased.

“Me. Yeah...”

Just saying the word
kiss
had triggered the need in Gia, so when he leaned forward then to do just that, she met him halfway.

And while it hadn’t been on her mind for more than a few seconds in advance, the first meeting of mouths really was what she needed in so many ways. Not only had she been longing to have him kiss her again since she’d stopped him the night before, but it helped her to believe that she hadn’t completely lost her appeal—the way just recalling the end of her marriage had made her feel.

Gia was instantly lost in kissing him. Her hand went to his chest without his encouragement this time, and when his other arm came around to enclose her in that splendid circle of biceps, she sank into him.

Lips parted and tongues reconvened with giddiness at the reunion, and everything else faded into oblivion—the hours that had passed without him, the family dinner, even her own past. There was just Derek and kissing him and being held against him again in those arms.

But her hand was like a brick wall between them, and she didn’t want that.

So she snaked it around his shoulder, moving her other arm, too, so she could have both hands pressed to his strong back. And her front to his....

She hadn’t realized how much her body had been craving that until she got there—to have her own arms around him, to absorb the feel of his back through her palms, to have her breasts in contact with his well-muscled chest.

She felt her nipples turn into tiny pebbles and wondered if he could feel it, too, since the tank top’s built-in bra wasn’t much of a barrier.

And yet, at the same time, it was enough to blunt sensations that she suddenly didn’t want blunted....

Oh, that was a dangerous thought!

But it was true. Her body was craving things she’d made it stop craving a long time ago. Things she’d stopped thinking about so she wouldn’t miss them. Things she’d thought might seem strange to do again with someone else.

Only that wasn’t the case. Not with Derek. Instead, wanting him, wanting his hands on her, came naturally and it was all she could think about.

She deepened their kiss as a new drive came to life in her. And she upped the sexiness quotient of their tongues at play, entreating and tempting him as she expanded her chest into his and kneaded the taut muscles of his back through the sport shirt he was wearing with slacks that fit him so well that during his grandmother’s dinner she’d stolen every opportunity to catch a glimpse of his great rear end in them.

Merely recalling that caused her to draw one hand down and forward to his thigh, wanting also to know if it was as thick and hard as those slacks seemed to hint at. And when she found that it was, her nipples got tighter still, nearly aching for his hand on them.

She sometimes liked to sit on her porch swing in the dark and just look out unseen at passing cars or neighbors walking by, but never had she been as grateful for those deep shadows as she was when Derek intensified the kiss himself and one of his hands trailed down to the hem of her outer shirt and then from there under her tank top.

Something that was more than a sigh but less than a moan rumbled in her throat at that first moment of his big, warm hand meeting skin.

The feel of a man’s touch...

It had been a long time.

But more than that, this was the feel of Derek’s touch, and there was something electrifying in that contact not only of skin on skin, but of his skin on hers.

She didn’t know if he knew how much she needed more of that contact or if he needed it, too, but after only a moment of resting his hand on her bare back he brought it around to her front and upward.

Her breath caught when he enclosed her breast in his grasp. When his fingers pressed into her flesh and her nipple turned harder still, nestling into the center of his palm.

Gentle then less gentle, firm then less firm—he caressed and kneaded and pulled and pushed her just so, just right, just enough to arouse and inspire her to thoughts of more. More of him. More of his touch. More of his mouth on more parts of her....

She wanted that.

She wanted every bit of it. Every bit of him. She wanted to know every inch of him with her own hands, her own mouth, and she wanted him to know every inch of her.

I could take him inside....

Her breast swelled even more boldly into his hand with that thought, and her own hand went up a few inches on his thigh.

But only a few.

Just short of reaching that part of him that she really wanted to touch.

But despite her talk with Tyson that morning, despite how much she wanted Derek—and she wanted him so much she was almost ashamed of herself—she just wasn’t sure.

Could
she merely mess around with this man, have only a little fun—enough to boost her own ego—and then go on about her business without a blip?

It wasn’t something she’d ever done before. And she just wasn’t sure if she could now....

Be careful—
Tyson had said it three times and the warning pinballed through her mind, rejected by pangs of desire only to warn her again, be rejected again, then warn her once more.

Once more was enough.

Damn it all anyway....

She groaned softly, covered Derek’s hand at her breast to press him tightly to her as if that would help engrave the feeling into her skin forever, and then she let go of his hand and ended the kiss by increments.

“I don’t know if we should be doing this....” she said. “I don’t know if
I
should be doing this....”

His fingers pushed into her flesh once more as if he was doing the same thing she had—memorizing the sensation to take with him—before he let go of her and took his hand out from under her shirt.

He didn’t say anything as he dropped his forehead to the top of hers, stayed there a moment, then kissed her again—so sweetly she had second thoughts about why anything she did with him could be anything other than right.

But she couldn’t let herself get carried away, and when that kiss ended, too, she bit back the words that would have invited him inside after all.

She heard him exhale and knew that he was working at regaining some control before he said, “Work tomorrow... Monday,” as if trying to put order to things. “You’re meeting with bankers for the Bronsons....”

“I am.”

He nodded. “Okay. I’ll call you after. You can tell me what happened.”

But what about this? What about us?

That was what went through her mind before she told herself there wasn’t any
us
and
this
probably shouldn’t be anything, either.

And just the fact that she’d had these thoughts warned her that she might not be able to take anything she did with him as lightly as she needed to, so she was right not to go any further.

He stood then, keeping hold of her hand to bring her to her feet, too, and walked her to her door.

“Oh, what you do to me...” he said when they got there and his glance went through the screen, as if he’d also been thinking about taking things inside.

Gia wasn’t sure whether to apologize for not asking him in, so she didn’t say anything but “Drive home safe.”

“Always,” he said, pulling her toward him again by the hand he was still holding. He wrapped his other arm around her and kissed her once more so thoroughly, so intensely, so temptingly, that she melted all over again and very nearly threw reason out and dragged him inside anyway.

But then that kiss ended and he smiled down at her and said, “Night, Gia.”

There was enough finality to that for her to find some acceptance, too, and she said, “Good night.”

But when he kissed her yet again, when the tip of his tongue teased hers, when his hand just barely brushed her breast before he said another ragged-voiced good-night and left her to watch him go down her porch steps to his car, she wasn’t sure she’d made the right choice.

Because her body was screaming at her for it.

And the pure and simple truth was that she was sorry she’d sent him away....

Chapter Nine

“T
onight. Dressed up—heels, hose, hair, the whole works. I’ll be at your house at seven. I have some things to tell you that have to do with the Bronsons and then something else to tell you, too. Then I’ll take you out to the best dinner money can buy—even though you’ve earned much more than that for what you’ve done for your neighbors and for a whole lot of other people.”

That was what Derek had said to Gia when he’d called her at work on Tuesday morning.

Mysterious, intriguing, a little flattering.

How could she say no?

Especially when she wanted to see him so badly she might have gone running if he’d just snapped his fingers.

Plus, she had a dress....

So she left work early Tuesday afternoon and went home to shower and shampoo and condition her hair.

As it was drying she scrunched it to actually add more curl so it was even fuller, with extra flair for fanciness.

Tonight’s makeup routine included eye shadow and liner, as well as a bit more blush and a second layer of mascara.

After that, she put on her thigh-high black nylons with her matching lace bikinis and strapless bra. Then the dress.

Slinky and black, it fit like a second skin. It had an off-the-shoulder neckline that went straight across, and didn’t miss a curve all the way to a few inches above her knees.

She’d loved the dress when she’d bought it four years ago but she’d never had the chance to wear it, and was glad to find that she still could.

Since Derek was so tall, the height of her heels didn’t matter, so she went with the strappy black four-inch sandals.

She was just applying a pale mauve lipstick rather than simple lip gloss when her doorbell rang at seven sharp.

“Wowza!” Derek said, his expression reflecting how much he liked what he saw when she opened the door.

Right back at you,
Gia thought as she thanked him.

She’d seen him in work suits and had no idea what made this suit different. But was it ever! He could have been inaugurated president in it.

It was midnight blue with a grayish cast and it accentuated to perfection his broad shoulders and divinely shaped torso. Under it he wore a dove-gray shirt with a matching tie, and she’d never seen anyone outside of a fashion magazine look as dynamic as he did.

“You clean up pretty well yourself,” she said as she let him in, fighting not to close her eyes and just breath in the clean woodsy scent of his cologne when he stepped in front of her.

Then she closed the door and turned to find him ogling her from the center of her living room.

“I wanted you dressed up, but you’ve blown me away, lady,” he said. “Look at you... Positively sultry.”

Me, sultry?

But the way he was looking at her confirmed that he liked what he saw as his gaze went from top to bottom to top again. With those gorgeous blue eyes wide.

“Turn and give me the whole thing.”

“No,” she demurred, beginning to feel self-conscious. Pleased, but self-conscious.

But he was determined because when she got farther into the room to join him he walked around her, making a full circle.

“Wowza from all angles” was his conclusion. “And here I am, just wanting to take it apart....” he mused under his breath before he surprised her by catching her hand in his to pull her to him so he could kiss her.

Wowza...

Then, just when he’d kissed her so thoroughly her knees were weak, he let go of her, and it took Gia a minute to regroup.

When she had, she found him smiling at her as he seemed to start over. “Hi.”

Gia laughed at him. “Hi,” she parroted.

“How was your day?” he asked mundanely.

“Good. How was yours?”

“Productive. I bought the Bronsons’ house.”

Screeching halt.

Gia froze and she could actually feel the color drain from her face. “You bought the Bronsons’ house?”

“I did.”

“Out from under them?” she said, her voice louder as panic began to hit. “Why would you do that? That’s just what they were afraid of from you! Do you hate those poor people or what? What did they ever do to the Camdens? You’re no better than the ones who ran them out of their hotel—”

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! After the time we’ve spent together, that’s still where you go? Come on—”

“You bought their house out from under them!” she repeated, louder still.

“Think about that, Gia.... How would I do that?”

“They’re behind in their payments. The bank has threatened foreclosure. You’re the
Camdens—
you could own the bank for all I know. You have more money than God and probably more power. You strolled in and got the bank to sell it to you right out from under Larry and Marion!”

He shook his head. “Take a breath.”

She couldn’t. Her mind was racing. Her heart was pounding. Even her breathing felt restricted.

Derek took her by the shoulders—bare shoulders that responded to the feel of his hands on them even as she was whirling with shock—and guided her to the sofa. “Sit down and hear me out,” he commanded.

Her knees were weak all over again so she did sit, terrified that she’d pushed Larry and Marion right into the lion’s den when they’d warned her not to let the Camdens be involved.

Once she was sitting, she kept her eyes on Derek. Only now it wasn’t because he looked fantastic, it was because she was right back to wondering if she had to.

He sat down beside her, angled toward her, his brow furrowed. “Think a little better of me, would you?”

“First the Camdens who came before you ran the Bronsons out of their hotel and now you’ve taken their house! What do you want me to think?”

His lips went tight and thin before he seemed to give in to something. Then he said, “I’m trusting you by saying this....”

He paused, obviously still weighing whether or not to say it.

Then he said, “The Bronsons got a raw deal at the hands of H.J. and my grandfather—”

An admission of guilt.

The Grants would never—ever—have made one.

But rather than that seeming like a good thing, all Gia could think was that she might have to use it in court, testifying that he’d said it in order to try to fix this for her neighbors.

“But I...my family now...had nothing to do with that,” he went on. “And not one of us would ever do something like that to anyone. Or stand for it being done in our name. No one is more sorry than I am that it was ever done. So what we’re trying to do now is make it up to them. I did
not
buy their house out from under them! What I did was pay off their loan. The title is free and clear
in their name—
that’s the first thing I wanted to talk to you about,” he said. “You told me yesterday what happened at the bank—”

The bank would agree to refinance only if there was a co-signer, and even if Gia did that, the payments were still higher than the Bronsons could comfortably afford. Gia knew it was better for them to sell and move into her basement. But she couldn’t make that decision for them, so she’d left it up to them to think about and decide. Then Derek had called and she’d told him.

“I know you’d be fine having them move in here,” he was saying. “But I also know—because you told me—that they’d rather stay in their house. So I made it so they can. They own it free and clear—
they
own it, not me, not any Camden. The title will come to them, in the name of Larry and Marion Bronson, without another soul attached to it. If they wanted, they could sell it next week and come away with every penny of the money in
their
pockets, and if they haven’t done that when both of them pass away, it’s theirs to leave to whomever they choose.”

Gia studied him, searching for a sign that he wasn’t telling the truth, mentally scanning for a hole in what he was telling her. But she didn’t find any sign, any hole, and she calmed down. But only slightly.

“There’s also an account opened for them,” Derek continued. “I’ll make sure it’s funded to pay the taxes and insurance, any upkeep and utilities—everything that has to do with the house for as long as it’s theirs. The account is in their names and yours so you can access it for them. It only needs you and them to sign the signature cards and it’s ready to go. And again, we’ll deposit into it but we have no access once the money is there—like the donation account you set up for them before. No access to the money and no claim on the house
whatsoever—
not now, not later,
never.
”

“That’s very generous....” she said. But only tentatively, because he’d raised all her red flags again and it wasn’t easy for her to lower them.

“I’m not finished,” he said patiently. “We want to pay for someone to come in and help with the cleaning and look after whatever they might need—it can be live-in, round-the-clock care or whatever they’ll be comfortable with. And as their needs change, so can the help that comes in—I’ll leave it to you to talk to them about what they want now and we’ll reassess whenever things change.”

“Okay...” she said quietly, still afraid this was all too good to be true.

“I know they’re just barely warming up to me, but I want to build on that so I can keep in contact to make whatever alterations need to be made as time goes by. GiGi called her doctor and told him that any bills not covered by the Bronsons’ insurance are to be sent to us—that includes anything they need healthwise, now or later.”

Gia nodded and she knew that it was her eyes that were wide now because all he was explaining stunned her.

He smiled slightly. “Relax, will you? I came in to assess how much damage was done by them losing their hotel years ago. I watched and listened so I could learn what they need, and I waited to see what you could accomplish for them. But now that I have the whole picture, I can see that the damage was extensive and the needs are far reaching, and even your best efforts aren’t going to save them. So let me. We owe them that.”

Another admission of guilt.

“We’re going to make sure that they have
anything
they need from here on out,” he assured. “We’re going to make sure they’re comfortable, that they’re well taken care of and that for what’s left of their lives, they’re unburdened. But if they’re still opposed to accepting it all from us, until I can build on the crack I’ve made in the ice, I’m going to count on you to keep running interference. And I’m definitely going to count on you to let us know if something happens suddenly that changes their needs or calls for more help—”

“And what’s in it for you?” she heard herself ask, thinking about her ex-husband and his family again, concern overcoming her.

“Nothing. This is straight restitution, nothing else. If you think it’s better for them not to even know it’s all coming from us, even that’s okay. If it will make them happier, you can say the house was paid off by an anonymous donor. Or I even have something else you can tell them—it won’t be true, but it might make them feel better. That’s the second part....”

“There’s more?” she said, unsure how there could be.

“You and the Bronsons opened our eyes to the needs of the elderly in general, so the Camden Foundation is developing a program to provide this type of assistance to whoever needs it. What we do for the Bronsons is separate, but I’m assuming that they have friends and know other people in their own age bracket who can benefit from this kind of program, and if you think they’d feel better believing that what’s coming to them is no more than any of their friends can access, let them think that.”

“Seems like what you’re talking about for them is more than anyone is going to get through a foundation, so they’d see through that. Plus, I think they’d like to know that you’re admitting what was done to them was wrong—”

She could tell that was a sticky subject by the arch of his eyebrows and the resignation in his expression. “We don’t need any credit, but we don’t need the negative attention stirred up either, if that could be kept to a minimum.”

Gia could understand that they were trying to live down a reputation that this generation might not deserve and that bringing up old wrongs wouldn’t help. But she couldn’t vouch for what Larry and Marion might do, so she could only say, “I’ll do what I can.”

Then, as more of what he’d told her sank in, she said, “So you set up a program that can help any elderly people who need it, and you did that with just the wave of a wand?”

He shrugged and she saw humility in the acknowledgment that yes, he had that ability. But what he said was, “The criteria are being hashed out now and put in place. By the first of the month, people can apply for help and if they qualify, it’ll be there for them.”

“For just any older people in need? No one in particular who might have some history with you the way Larry and Marion do?”

“For any elderly people in need. Before this, we just weren’t really seeing that there
is
a need. But my grandmother is seventy-five—I told you, the thought of her being in the position the Bronsons are in...” He shook his head a second time. “We wouldn’t want that. The Bronsons’ situation got us all thinking, so we wanted to do what we can to help. I know what you think of us, but we really are trying to do better than what was done before....”

Gia was still looking for an ulterior motive. The Grants would have had one, because they weren’t about actually doing good, they were just about cover-ups to make themselves
look
good.

But there just didn’t seem to be an ulterior motive here. Derek had even admitted that he and his family bore some guilt. He’d been open with her, honest. And the scope of what he was giving to the Bronsons, what he was going to provide for other people, was impressive.

She thought that she might just have to concede that the Camdens—at least the current Camdens—were different than the Grants. That they acted with ethics and integrity, that they genuinely wanted to atone for whatever was done before them and give back. That they really were a different ilk than her former in-laws.

“This is all for real? You’re serious,” she said then, the shadow of disbelief hovering.