CHAPTER NINE

Camille

 

Cassie snapped at me to quit hovering when I asked her for the fortieth time if she was okay. 

“I am not a crushed rose petal,” she grumbled and so I resolved to hold my tongue. 

We caught a small break at home because Cadence was the only one awake.  My father had always possessed unusually keen insight where his daughters were concerned.  He would have taken one look at us and known something had happened.  Hearing the story would have distressed him.  More than distressed him.  He might have zoomed off into the night in search of Ivan. 

However, Cadence turned out to be a nuisance herself, trailing after us and bubbling over with questions about the stupid Aqua Room.  When she sat on my bed and refused to budge I relented and gave her a quick summary.  When I got to the part that included Ivan her face reddened and she slammed her fist into an open palm. 

“I should have been there,” she blurted.  “I would have kicked their fucking asses.” 

Cassie smiled at our tempestuous seventeen-year-old sister.  “Cami did a fine job of that.” 

I scowled.  “Not true.  My fists bothered him about as much as the wings of a fruit fly.”   

“Then we should be grateful for Dalton,” Cassie pointed out. 

“Dalton?  Who’s Dalton?”  Cadence wanted to know. 

I shimmied out of Cassie’s dress and pulled a soft San Diego University t-shirt over my head.  “Dalton’s nobody.”

Cadence didn’t buy it.  “I bet Dalton’s the reason for the smoking makeover.” 

“You might win that bet,” Cassie said sweetly.  “But right now get out of our room and go to bed.” 

“And don’t mention this story to Mom and Dad,” I added. 

My little sister gave me a withering look.  “Seriously?  You think you need to tell me that?”

“It wasn’t Dalton’s fault, you know,” Cassie pointed out after she’d pushed Cadence out of the room and closed the door. 

I didn’t answer.  I just rolled over, faced the wall and waited for sleep.  I knew that tonight’s sour turn of events hadn’t been Dalton’s fault.  That was why my subconscious felt free to compose erotic dreams about him all night long. 

The next morning I was thumbing through customer service satisfaction surveys at the Blue Rain reception desk and trying to scrape the image of naked, sweaty Dalton Tremaine out of my filthy head when he casually walked through the door. 

“Do you have an appointment, sir?” I asked, trying to maintain a severe expression while my mouth kept pulling into a smile with a will of its own.  I probably looked ridiculous, like a dog trying not to bare its teeth. 

Dalton didn’t appear bothered.  He took his time checking out the lobby before approaching my desk.  Meanwhile, I purposely bit my tongue to distract me from the memory of a particular dream where I was riding him hard and fast atop a massage table. 

“I’ve never been in here before,” he said, continuing to look around.  “Nice place.” 

I plucked a brochure from a stack and offered it.  “You can consider Blue Rain’s various services at your leisure.” 

He watched me.  “Why don’t you give me a rundown of the most popular options?”

“Why don’t you just take the brochure, Dalton?”

He took the brochure but didn’t glance at it.  He kept his eyes fastened on me. I was glad I could lean on the desk because my knees were suddenly a little weak. 

“Camille,” he said, “I came to apologize again about last night.” 

I neatened the stack of brochures.  “Why are you apologizing? You were the hero of the moment.” 

“Because I run the club.  What happens on the inside is my responsibility. I’m deeply sorry for the trouble you and your sister encountered.”  He paused.  “How is Cassie?”

“Cassie’s a trooper,” I replied.  “She told me to stop treating her like a crushed rose petal.” 

He grinned and leaned closer.  He smelled of peppermint and pine and I was dizzy with the urge to hurl myself in his direction.

“Look,” he said seriously, “I’m not good at this.  I’m out of practice.  But I was glad as hell to see you walk into the club. And I didn’t get the chance to tell you but you looked beautiful.”

My mouth wouldn’t operate.  Somewhere in my head there was an appropriate response but fuck if I could find it.  I was hypnotized by the way his full lips looked when they moved. 

“You look beautiful now,” those lips uttered. 

“I’m wearing a polo shirt,” I said stupidly. 

His eyes swept over me, slowly.  “I know what you’re wearing.” 

This seemed like one of my erotic dreams where I woke up gasping with an ache between my legs.  But it was no dream.  And it made no sense that Dalton Tremaine, who probably saw a thousand beautiful women a week and could have any one of them, would be chasing after me. 

“What do you want, Dalton?” I asked, not because I was trying to be rude.  I was honestly curious. 

“I want to see you again, Cami.”

There were a lot of things I didn’t know.  Among them was the fact that a certain deep voice possessed the power to make my panties instantly damp. Now I knew.  I couldn’t help this attraction if I tried.  It was magnetic, intoxicating.   

“Now?” I whispered. 

He considered.  “It would be bad manners to encourage you to abandon your desk.  But you told me once if I bought you a cup of coffee you might drink it.  Why don’t we start there?” 

“Given the extreme heat, iced tea might be a better option.” 

“I can make that option happen.” 

“In that case I take lunch at noon.” 

Dalton smiled.  “Good.  I’ll be back at noon.” 

Then he turned and walked out even though I hadn’t really said yes. I was so busy watching Dalton walk away that I didn’t notice Holly had wandered into the reception area. 

She gaped at me, practically pop-eyed. “Holy shit, you were talking to Dalton Tremaine.”

I fought against my smile and deadpanned, “Oh, is that his name?” 

Dalton showed up promptly at eleven fifty nine.  Eleanor was standing beside my desk while I showed her the website improvements that the consultant had implemented so far.  One of the oddest things I’d learned about Eleanor was her utter contempt for the internet.  She said the online world was venom to the soul and avoided it whenever possible, yet was still able to manage Blue Rain quite effectively from what I’d seen so far.  She was standing back and observing silently while I explained how online appointment booking would work when Dalton appeared. 

“Hello, Eleanor,” he greeted her.  “Good to see you outside of a monthly staff meeting.” 

“Dalton,” she answered warmly, “have you finally decided to make use of your employee discount?”

He grinned and shook his head.  “Not today.” 

“Dalton stopped by earlier and picked up a brochure,” I said, wondering if there were any rules about an upper level manager taking a lowly receptionist out to lunch. 

If such rules did exist, Dalton seemed unconcerned with them.  “And now I’m back to pick you up, Cami.  We did say noon, right?”

“You said noon.” 

He laughed.  “I did.  So let’s go.”   

Normally a cocky response like that from the average guy would leave me spitting a sarcastic comeback.  But Dalton was about as far from an average guy as Earth was from Jupiter. 

“Is it okay if I take lunch now?” I asked Eleanor, just because I felt like I should.   

“Yes, that’s fine,” she said.  She wasn’t scowling but she didn’t exactly look happy either.  Maybe she thought I was trying to flirt my way to a better job around here or maybe she had eyes for Dalton herself.   

Dalton waved goodbye to Eleanor and gallantly held the door open for me. 

“Your chariot,” he said, offering his hand to assist me into the waiting golf cart. 

“Wow, it’s like a horse and carriage, only not.”  

He backed the cart up.  “Would you rather walk?”

“Where?”

“To the Cholla Café.” 

“Oh.”  A family of quail scuttled across the pavement in front of us and then disappeared into the brush.  “I figured we’d be leaving the resort.” 

“I made other arrangements,” he said, piloting the golf cart toward the sprawling main building. 

When I didn’t answer he must have had second thoughts about being so confident. 

“Is that okay, Cami? We can go somewhere off site if you prefer.” 

“The café is fine.  I just thought there might be gossip if people saw us together.”

“Why?  Are you famous?”

I poked him in the arm.  “No, but you kind of are.” 

He snorted.  “Hardly.  I played a game for a while.”

“I wasn’t talking about your baseball career. I confess to being out of the loop when it comes to trendy hot spots but it seems Aqua Room is Phoenix’s contemporary version of Studio 54.  And since it’s your club that kind of makes you king of the castle.” 

Dalton eased the vehicle to a stop right in the middle of the path.  The enormous main pool was beyond the fence on our left.  The glass double doors that led directly to the café was on the right. 

He shifted in his seat and gave me a frank stare.  “It’s not really my club, Cami.  You know that.”

I winced, remembering last night and the way Ivan’s friend had thrown that fact in Dalton’s face.  Aqua Room, like everything else in sight, was owned by Griffin Sullivan. 

“Sorry.  I wasn’t trying to be obnoxious.” 

He shrugged and climbed out of the golf cart.  “You’re not.  I’m proud of the work I’ve done and I’m proud of the club’s success although I don’t mind telling you it’s not what I want to do forever.” 

“Hey Dalton, you need me to move this?”  A copper-haired kid who was probably just out of high school appeared.  I’d seen him working at the pool before although with his freckled fair skin he probably shouldn’t be spending his days in the sun.  I didn’t miss the way he looked at Dalton with complete awe. 

“If you don’t mind, Brad, that’d be great.” 

The kid shook his head.  “No, I don’t mind at all.  Seriously, not at all.  I’ll keep it waiting in the delivery zone by the kitchen.”

“Appreciate it, Brad,” Dalton said and then escorted me into the café. 

He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d made ‘arrangements’.  A delectable spread of fresh fruits, hummus and crackers was waiting at the best table in the corner. 

“Thank you, Bonnie,” he called to a passing waitress and she beamed at him. 

“You have no idea, do you?” I asked after we were seated and served towering glasses of iced tea. 

He raised an eyebrow.  “What?”

I took a sip of iced tea.  It was cold and sugary and delicious.  “What you do to people.”

Dalton sat back in chair and crossed his arms while regarding me with an amused expression.  “What do I do to you, Cami?”

There it was again.  A bolt of lust so powerful I had to cross my legs to stifle it.  “I wasn’t talking about me.” 

“I don’t see anyone here at lunch with us.” 

“I just meant, well…” I trailed off in a search for words.  “People want to exist in your orbit.  It’s charisma or magnetism or whatever you want to call it.  I bet you were voted ‘Most Popular’ or some shit in high school, right?”

He nodded.  “And Best Looking.  And Most Likely to Succeed.”

“Jesus.”

“And I won Homecoming King.” 

I balled up a napkin and threw it at him.  “On second thought, I think you know exactly what you’re doing.” 

His eyes turned serious.  “Maybe.”

I eyeballed him.  “I also think you’re used to getting what you want.” 

As soon as I made the statement I wished I could take it back, remembering how I’d read about Dalton’s lost baseball career and his messy breakup with his fiancé.  If Cassie were here she would have kicked me in the shin for shooting my know-it-all mouth off. 

“I shouldn’t have said that,” I said quickly. 

Dalton shrugged it off though.  “Let’s eat.  You like hummus?” 

After taking a taste I discovered that I did indeed like hummus.  Bonnie the waitress brought out a plate of colorful cut veggies and a stack of warm pitas.  Normally I was a burger and fries kind of girl but I didn’t have a single complaint about the food.

“I can’t believe you went to all this trouble,” I said between bites.  “I’m impressed.” 

“Then phase one of my evil plan worked.” 

“Your evil plan was to feed me lunch?”

He winked.  “Naturally.  That’s what every man wants.  Lunch.” 

I chewed on a cucumber slice, hoping its cool qualities would dissolve the blush I was fairly certain crept over my skin.  I changed the subject, partly to dispel the innuendo hanging in the air and partly because I was curious about a few things. 

“So Aqua Room attracts its fair share of celebrities,” I said casually.   

“A few.”

“I saw Paisley Starr there last night.”

“Is she the one who sings about fucking her stepbrother?”

“Yes.  But don’t be unfair.  She also sings about rescuing unwanted kittens.” 

Dalton mulled that over.  “Cami, I think you and I might attach different meaning to the word ‘pussy’.” 

I spat out the cherry tomato I’d just popped into my mouth.  “Dalton!”

“What?  Nobody’s listening.” 

“Not true.  Those two old ladies sitting ten feet away recoiled in horror.” 

Dalton deliberately turned to his left to observe the two elderly women.  He gave them his best devastating grin and waved.  They giggled and waved back. 

“You proved your point,” I grumbled.  “Anyway, let’s get back to talking about celebrities.” 

“If you insist.”   

“I bet you’ve seen a lot of famous people.  Singers, sports starts, reality television contestants.”  I paused.  “Politicians.” 

Dalton said nothing.  He spread hummus on a circle of pita bread. 

I cleared my throat and continued.  “For instance, I saw Congressman Anders there last night.” 

Dalton continued generously applying hummus. 

“In fact that wasn’t the first time I caught a glimpse of him here at the resort.” 

Dalton set his pita bread down on a plate.  “Our guests don’t come here to be gossiped about.” 

“It just seemed strange that he would be here.  Plus there’s this girl I went to high school with and she pretends not to know me but I don’t know why. Anyway I saw the two of them together the other day.” 

“Cami.”  Dalton’s voice was low but stern.  “Stop.” 

I lowered my head.  “Sorry.  My mouth gets me in trouble sometimes.  If my family was around they’d be happy to tell you all about it.” 

He touched my hand gently.  “Why don’t you tell me?  About your family, that is.”

And so I started talking.  About my parents, about my sisters, about the whole unruly, wonderful Gentry tribe.  Dalton listened and then after a little prompting talked about his own family.  His absent mother, his wild older brother, his obsessively driven father who pushed and pushed and didn’t care if he lost his own son in the process.

“We don’t talk much anymore,” he concluded. 

I nodded.  “I don’t blame you.  And your brother?  Where is he?”

“He’s in Denver right now but Hale’s like a leaf in the wind.”  He paused and reconsidered.  “No, that’s wrong.  Hale’s more like a bullet that’s been aimlessly fired.  You don’t know where it’ll hit, but odds are it’ll make a hell of an impression when it does.” 

“You sound like you miss him.” 

“I do miss him.  He’s my brother.”

“I can imagine. I miss my sisters like crazy even when I’m just at school in the next state.” 

 “So you’re planning on returning when you graduate?”

“No,” I said, a little sadly.  “There aren’t many journalism opportunities in Phoenix.” 

“Sounds like you’ve got big plans.” 

“Yes.  My mother always told me that anyone who says the sky is the limit is full of shit because there are a million unexplored worlds out there beyond our sky and no one knows where the limit really is.  So yes, I’ve got big plans.”   

Dalton leaned forward and touched my hand again, running his broad thumb across the back of my wrist.  “And what are your plans tonight, Camille?”

Is it possible to orgasm just from the right man touching your hand?

I didn’t know the answer to that question.  But I was dangerously close to finding out. 

“My cousin’s graduation,” I said, feeling like my heart was going to bust through my polo shirt, like my panties were going to melt inside my khakis.  “My cousin, Jacob.  He’s, um, graduating from high school.” 

“That’s nice.”  Dalton turned my hand over and stroked the palm before moving down over the base of my thumb to torture the delicate skin over the pulse point.  I didn’t know if it was a typical erogenous zone. 

I did know it was driving me crazy.

I did know that I wanted him. 

I did know I might do anything he asked right there in broad daylight in the middle of the Cholla Café.  

“I can’t get out of work tonight anyway,” Dalton said mildly, betraying no concern that I was on the verge of climaxing in my chair. “It’s Friday.  The club will be busy.”  

“Yes,” I said through clenched teeth, thinking I’d never wanted to get off so bad. 

“I’ll have to work tomorrow night too but we can do something early in the day.”

“Yes.”  I was clenching and unclenching the muscles between my legs, hoping no one could see, then not caring if they did. 

“I mean if you’re free.”

“Yes.” 

“Cami?”

“Yes.” 

Oh god, so close, so fucking close. 

Dalton released me and sat back in his chair.  “You’ll be late getting back to work,” he said and motioned for Bonnie the waitress to return with the check. 

On the golf cart ride back to Blue Rain Spa I clutched my handbag in my lap and tried not to feel as if I had just been dancing naked on a table.  Dalton, meanwhile, was whistling as he drove.  It comforted me to think he must have no idea my panties were as damp as a used pool towel. 

Suddenly he withdrew his phone from his pocket and handed it to me. “Add your number.  I’ll text you in the morning.” 

My fingers were clumsy as I pressed the numbers.  “What time?”

“What time do you get out of bed, Cami?”

I returned his phone.  “On a non-work day?  I don’t know, sometime before noon.”

“Then you’ll hear from me before noon.”  He pulled up in front of the spa and turned to me expectantly.  “You’re wrong, you know.” 

It was a struggle to think.   “About what?”

“I don’t get everything I want.”

I bobbed my head.  “Oh.” 

He leaned closer.  “Because, Miss Camille Gentry, if I always got what I wanted then we’d be in my room right now, finishing what we started over lunch.” 

 Every carnal instinct I possessed shrieked that I needed to hurl myself across the seat and straddle his lap.  But I still had a sensible side so that’s not what happened. 

Instead I climbed out of the cart and said, “Thank you for lunch, Dalton.” 

“You’re welcome,” he said and drove off. 

I stood there for a moment, trying to subdue the riot inside my own body. This summer was supposed to be quiet and unremarkable.  But that was before I knew Dalton Tremaine existed.  

“Well, fuck me,” I muttered as I watched the golf cart disappear.