Chapter Seven
Potted chrysanthemums stood cheerful guard on either side of the front door, their defiant blossoms issuing bright pink bursts of hope into the drizzly afternoon. Lauren gripped her key in her hand and wondered about knocking. Politeness lost the battle, and she unlocked the door, stepping into the warm foyer.
“Mom? Where are you?” she called through the vast house. Looking from side to side she caught the rooms frozen in time. Not a photograph had been moved since the accident, but life changed anyway. The house once so busy and bustling, now served as a shrine to what once was, and a warning of what Lauren could never let herself become.
“I’m in the den,” Emma Brody called back.
Of course she’d be in the den. That’s where the big screen television, always tuned to the At Home Mall network, sat across from the computer where she did her internet shopping. Four steps from the kitchen, and just a doorway away from the spare bedroom her mother slept in. The woman who once hosted lavish parties and chaired community organizations had shrunk her world to an area smaller than most apartments.
Lauren walked across the mahogany hardwood floors, past the formal dining room table perpetually set for guests Emma never invited, and through the kitchen to the den.
“Hello, baby. I was hoping you’d stop by,” Emma said without looking away from the scrapbooking demonstration on the shopping channel. She wore the same purple velour warm up suit as the woman hosting the show.
“I need to rummage through your closet.” Lauren leaned against the Spanish tiled countertop and pulled off her black ankle boots. “Care to play dress up?”
“What are you looking for?” Emma reached for a pen on the side table and jotted down the number of the item on the screen.
“Cocktail dresses and an evening gown or two.”
That got Emma’s attention, her smiling face turning toward her daughter for the first time. “Why?”
“I’m dating a man I can’t afford.” Lauren smiled, thinking of all the events she’d need to dress up for. She liked to dress well, but her closet barely contained anything formal enough for the occasions. Especially since so many of the other women would be in the latest designs. Thankfully, she and her mother were similar builds, and vintage was all the rage.
Emma stood, shaking out her chin length gray curls with one hand. “You mean Cameron Price? From what I hear he can definitely afford to keep you outfitted.”
Lauren’s heart thudded in her ears. She’d come to tell her mother about Cameron, but should have expected the gossip trolls to break the news first. Her mother might never leave the house anymore, but she was still as connected to the gossip grapevine as ever.
“Mom, things with Cameron are complicated.”
“Complicated as in you’ve been involved in a serious relationship with a man I’ve never even heard you mention, or complicated as in you don’t want to be another hand in his pocket?”
“Both, actually.” Lauren tucked her hair behind her ears and met her mother’s grassy green stare with all the indignation of a disgruntled fifteen-year-old.
“Then let’s fix both, shall we? Have a shopping spree on me, and bring him over for dinner so I can get a look at him.”
Lauren shook her head. “Let’s see what’s in your dressing room first, and you should come to the next dinner party at his place.” That wouldn’t be as much pressure on Cameron, and would get her mother out of the house.
Emma’s curls swung to the side as she tilted her head. “You’d rather wear my dresses than pick out new ones? Really, Lauren. You need to get over these issues you have with money.”
Pressing her lips together, Lauren drew a long breath and forced a smile. She needed to know she could support herself completely, without the safety net of family money. It was the only way to ensure she wouldn’t end up like her mother, hiding inside a house because her world died with her husband and son. If Emma had more of an identity than being Senator Liam Brody’s wife, she might have continued to live her life, instead of keeping everything on pause.
“Mom, I don’t want to fight. I just want to look at some dresses, that’s all. I’m planning on going to some resale shops, but you have such classic taste, and we’re the same size, so I though this would be easier.”
Emma nodded and muted the television. “You can have whatever you need. It’s not like I’ll ever wear any of them again. In fact, while we’re looking for dresses for you, I’ll pull out some to donate as well.”
Lauren blinked, watching her mother walk through the room and up the staircase. In the last five years Lauren had pushed to donate her brother and father’s things. Maybe this was a baby step toward letting go.
Catching up to her mother, she followed her through the master suite and into the dressing room larger than the den her mother spent her life in now.
“Did you bring a strapless bra?”
“Wearing it.” Lauren grinned as she undressed, watching her mother unzip a garment bag section and flip through the dresses on hangers. It had been too long since she’d seen her this animated.
“Tell me about Cameron.” Emma handed her a turquoise silk dress with a chiffon overlay, and pulled the hangers from three other dresses before tossing them to the floor.
“He’s a venture capitalist from New York.” The dress slid over her body and she stepped in front of the full-length mirrors mounted on one wall. Smoothing her hands against the gauzy fabric she stared at the ethereal image. “This dress is a keeper.”
“I thought so. Only got to wear it twice, though. A benefit in Seattle and the 1993 inaugural ball.” Emma handed her a black crepe minidress. “How long have you known him?”
“You know how I feel about black, Mom.”
“Black isn’t bad as long as it doesn’t become a habit. Trust me, and try it on.” She held out the dress. “How did you meet him?”
Try on the dress or confess everything to her mother? The dress won out. “This is so short it should be illegal.”
“It’s not that short.” Emma adjusted the artisan pin at the base of a deep vee neckline that held the dress together. “Why don’t you want to talk about Cameron?”
“Because it’s not as serious as people think.” Her mother’s eyebrows shot up. “His boss assumed, so now we’re together without any of the fun steps you take to get there.” Lauren unzipped the dress, quite proud she’d given her mother the gist of the situation without anything specific.
“So that’s why you hadn’t told me?”
“I came to tell you today. I didn’t want to explain over the phone.” She straightened up in time to watch her mother dump a handful of dresses on the floor. “You really are cleaning house.”
“I think it’s about time. And it’s easier with you here.”
She passed over a pink silk kimono dress. Lauren undid the side frog closures and wrapped the dress around her body. The cotton-candy pink of the dress made her hair seem redder, her complexion healthier. Her mom was three for three. Turning from the mirror she gasped and dove for the mustard print silk dress being dropped to the pile on the floor.
“Not the Pucci!”
“Lauren, Pucci is gaudy.”
“Gaudy is in, Mom. And so is Pucci.” Lauren scanned the pile for more designers in need of saving. Satisfied her mother hadn’t sinned, she held out the eye-catching lemon, lime, and mustard dress, admiring the wild geometric design and banded collar.
“Baby, that dress is older than you.”
“I don’t care. I’m keeping all the Pucci.” Lauren hugged the dress to her. “You know, Mom, you could sell these dresses on eBay and make a fortune.”
With the first section of zippered canvas wardrobe bag empty, Emma moved on to the next. “I’m giving you the good dresses. And the Pucci. Do you think Cameron will like something so bright?”
“Probably not.” She tried not to pout, thinking of his ultra conservative attire.
“What does he like you in?” She handed over a butter yellow wrap dress.
Lauren weighed her words as she changed. She needed to tell her mother enough about Cameron to put her mind at ease, but not so much she’d need to backpedal if things blew up in her face.
“Cameron would never complain about what I wear. He’s very polite, gentlemanly.” To the point of walking out of her apartment after she’d invited him to ravish her. She shook her head to dislodge the self-defeating thought. “As long as I’m comfortable and confident in what I wear, he won’t mind.”
“Is his move to Seattle permanent? Or will you be traipsing back to New York with him?”
“I think he’ll be here a while.” Long enough to indulge her needs, and his. If only she could keep from panicking, or being interrupted by nosy so-called friends.
Emma smoothed the sash of the pale gossamer shantung. “Are you going to marry him, Lauren?”
“Not this month, Mom. Or next. I promise, I’ll keep you informed. We’re both very busy with work, too busy to think about planning anything.”
“Nyla can handle the planning.”
“Not you, too. You have to be on my side. It’s in the parenting contract. No siding with my best friend over me. Don’t make me lawyer up.”
A smile split Emma’s face. “I’m glad you’re not rushing in. Take your time, Lauren. Be sure.” She turned, leafing through the dresses again.
“I will be, Mom. You should meet him.”
“I’m always here.” Emma pushed another dress into Lauren’s hands and turned back to the rack.
“You should come to one of the dinners, Mom. I could use some advice on adding color to his house. Everything is white.” Emma froze, like in those bad sitcoms where they freeze the frame so the actor can talk to the camera. “You need to leave the house sometimes.”
“I leave the house.” Emma pulled out an orange dress Lauren was glad to see go in the discard pile.
“Mom, you only shop online, even for your groceries.” Lauren shed the yellow wrap, changing into the two-piece sleeveless top and long straight skirt. Damn if this wasn’t as perfect as the last. “When was the last time you went anywhere?”
“Lauren, really. I prefer to be at home. You don’t understand.”
“Explain it to me.”
“I’ve always wanted to just be. To read, watch movies, study Shakespeare, learn French, relax. My whole life was one event after another, life in fast forward. I can’t rewind, so I’m pausing for a bit.”
“Five years?”
“I don’t have anyone depending on me, Lauren. As much as I wish it weren’t true, your father and brother are gone; you have a life of your own. It’s time for me to be selfish and do what I want to do, when I want to do it.” With a quick nod to her head, Emma turned back to the dresses and pulled out a pearl-accented cream herringbone knit.
“I worry.”
“Let me do the worrying. Now, tell me more about Cameron.”
Tucking her hair behind her ears, Lauren tried on the dress while she thought of something appropriate to say.
“You don’t want to tell me about him?” Four more dresses joined the mountain on the floor.
“I’m not sure where to start.” Admiring the dress in the mirror, Lauren caught her mother’s suspicious stare and decided to go for broke. “He’s very handsome, has these bold blue eyes that sparkle, and rich chocolate-brown hair. He’s impossible to overlook and has an authoritative stance that makes him seem arrogant, which I think he likes. He has a mysterious aura thing going on.”
“Is that why the dresses matter?”
“What do you mean?” Lauren ran a finger along the scoop neckline, turning so she could scope the low back.
“Do you feel unsure of how you look standing next to him? So you thought vintage couture would make you feel better?”
“Mother!” Her jaw dropped open, her mind swirling because the comment hit so close to home. At the dinner party the other women had looked askance at her. She’d told herself being barefoot caused their haughty attitudes. But she knew they wore designer fashions, while she’d donned a three-year-old simple black dress.
Cameron might not have cared, but the part of Lauren she’d thought she cast aside, the part that wanted to make her man proud of her, needed the dresses. She didn’t want to think of it like that, but there it was. Dangerous, but true.
To correct her mother’s mistake of hitching her life to someone else’s, Lauren had turned her life on its ear, jettisoning her plans to marry and repeat her parents’ life. But she’d become so frenzied with work and success she felt depleted, with little time left for herself. Cameron’s proposal had been so tempting because she’d tired of her pursuit of loneliness, needed something to jolt her back into life. Even if it was a life she knew she couldn’t have without losing the life she needed to stay sane.
“Lauren, you always comfort yourself with clothes. Have since you used to play dress up in this very room. Is that why you haven’t told me you were serious about him? You don’t think you measure up?”
“I measure up just fine, Mother.” Deciding she had more than enough options to get her through the next few weeks, she slipped out of the dress and stepped into her low-rise jeans. Pulling on the off-the-shoulder sweater and adjusting the suede drawstring tie around the neck so it appeared to barely be staying on, she tousled her hair and turned to face her mother. “I’m quite the catch, you know. Rich mother, successful business, and no one has gone blind from looking at me lately.”
“Lauren, really.” Emma rolled her eyes.
“You deserved that.” She stuck out her tongue and fluffed her hair again.
“What kind of events are these dresses for?”
“Dinner parties mainly. The odd holiday gathering and charity event.” She’d reworked her schedule, having Diego run more dinners than made her comfortable, to attend most of the gatherings.
He’d been excited by the opportunity, and with the crew in place and the menus planned, Lauren knew he could handle the responsibility with ease. She reminded herself she needed him to handle catering if she wanted to grow the business.
She wanted to jump on the pre-prepped dinner industry, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to let go of the catering side. That is, until Cameron tempted her to step back and play with him.
“Are you catering these dinner parties?”
“All the one’s at his place, and two of the others we’re invited to. But Diego has been hankering for more responsibility, so he’ll be stepping up.”
“I’m glad. You work too hard.”
“It will still be hard. Come For Dinner is booked for Cameron’s parties, so I’ll be handling them on my own.” Which didn’t intimidate her in the least. It would lead to a more intimate feel, and make their relationship appear closer.
“Do you have one this week?” Emma began packing the discarded dresses into one of the wardrobe bags.
“Yes, on Friday. He hosts dinners to get together potential clients and investors. This week is renewable fuels. Professor Volk is on the guest list.” She smiled, imagining the face of her father’s golfing buddy.
“Tell him hello for me. And make sure you prepare a vegan option for him.”
“Vegan?” She’d been racking her brain for low-carb vegan options for the wedding from Hades, running smack into a brick wall.
“He and Malta both. Actually, I’d guess a lot of people interested in renewable fuels would eat healthy, more sustainable.”
No doubt, but what could she make that Cameron would be willing to consume?
“So Mom, what do you serve a vegan for dinner?”
…
“You haven’t looked up in four minutes.”
Cameron blinked at his computer screen and cast a glance toward his office door. Lauren leaned against the doorframe, a vision in jeans, lace trimmed tank, and an apple green suede blazer, a white box in her hands. He hadn’t heard from her in three days, and she came to his office bearing gifts. He sucked his cheek between his teeth, wondering how to deal with the first meeting after coitus interruptus.
”I would have waited for you to pause, but I’m bored. This is the biggest, barest office I’ve ever seen.” She scrunched her perfect nose. “Didn’t you bring any pictures with you? A diploma or two? Something.”
“I’ll grab some things for the walls when I’m in New York next weekend.”
“How was Portland?” She stepped into the office, closing the door behind her. Walking to his desk, she set the box in front of him and perched on the corner.
“I didn’t go.” He turned to his computer, saving his work so he could focus on the conversation he’d planned to have with her tonight at the benefit concert. Talking without the chance of being overheard by the largest investors in Anders & Norton’s projects held much more appeal.
Every moment since he’d seen her last, Lauren’s proposition niggled at his conscience. He had to be sure she wouldn’t change the rules of the game after they started playing.
“You know I’m not in the market for a relationship.”
Lauren quirked an eyebrow. “Good thing, because I could never be with anyone who throws business my way out of guilt. Really, Cameron, the caterer who usually handles the lunch meetings will be upset.”
He furrowed his brow. “I promised all Anders & Norton catering business, and I keep my promises.” Cameron reached for the white cardboard box and undid the flap. Pulling the contents from the box he found a turkey sandwich on whole wheat, a creamy potato salad with peas, and two brownies. “And the other service puts mustard on turkey. Quite the abomination.”
“I’d have to agree.” She grinned and leaned a hand on the desk. “You should make a list of all the things you’re picky about so I can plan menus and get your lunch order right.”
“I’m not a picky eater.”
“You have to be joking.”
“I’m not.”
“Nothing that gives you bad breath or might stick in your teeth are your only rules?”
“It’s not that I don’t like certain foods, it’s just not practical to eat sloppy foods during a meeting.”
She sighed. “You could pay attention to what you eat. Actually taste the food.”
He cleared off a section of his desk and spread out his meal. Making his lunch seemed very long-term, committed, intimate even. “Do you always make lunch deliveries?”
“Every day. And since you’ve contracted us to cater all lunch meetings, I’ll be here every day.” She tilted her head to the side, her reddish-blonde hair cascading over her shoulder. “I have a buffet set up in two of the conference rooms, so I have an hour or so to kill until I tear down. I thought it might look suspicious if I didn’t stop in to see you, so I brought you a box lunch.”
“You didn’t do box lunches for everyone?”
She shook her head. “Enchiladas in one room, apricot chicken in the other. Pasta, green, and fruit salads. And brownies.”
Cameron held up the tub of potato salad. “Did you make this just for me?”
She shook her head again. “We’re catering seven lunches today, Cameron. We make huge batches, and then divide everything up. I opted for that because I wasn’t sure of your stance on fruit.”
“I like all fruits. But thanks for this anyway. And for stopping by. We need to talk.”
“You want to talk more than any man I know.”
“We’re in an unusual situation, hence my need to clarify.” He turned in his chair to face her, leaning back and steepling his fingers. “There are definite benefits to the arrangement for me. Having you in my life will make it run more smoothly, and pleasurably. But I still don’t see what’s in it for you.”
“You don’t? You outlined an impressive list of reasons over dinner.” Her cheeks pinked and green eyes sparkled as she rounded the corner of the desk and sank down in his lap with a mischievous grin.
“I’m not going to hate you in the morning, or expect you to deliver a proposal on bended knee with a three-carat diamond. I like the freedom of our arrangement.” Her fingers played with his tie as she looked up at him.
“I won’t be asking you to come home early, you won’t be telling me to spend more time with you. We enjoy the events you have to host and attend, enjoy each other on occasion, and keep on that way until one of us tires of the arrangement, or gets a better offer.”
“No better offers while you’re with me.”
“Right back at you. What now?” Lauren pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and stared up at him.
“I think everyone buys our story.”
“Including my mother, but I’m not talking about our selective storytelling. All of our little half truths seem to have a way of morphing into extensive lies. The karma kickback on this charade will be huge if we don’t start trying to make it true.”
“That’s what I meant about the way you talk. You phrase things differently than anyone I’ve ever met.”
Lauren wrapped his tie around her hand, just as she had in her apartment. “What’s the expiration date on your last relationship?”
“Expiration date?”
“How long were you together with your last girlfriend?”
He hadn’t had a girlfriend in a decade, not since he learned women saw him as a bank balance and not a person. Since then, he hadn’t invested enough in a woman to care.
She wrinkled her nose. “You’re a one-night-stand type, aren’t you?”
Cameron ran a hand through his hair, pausing to rub the tension out of the back of his neck. What did he care that she obviously didn’t approve of his behavior? The women never complained, never expected him to call. Women who needed the release as much as he did. Instead of answering her question, he snagged a brownie from his desk and took a big bite.
“I’m tired of playing solitaire.” Lauren took the brownie from his hand and set it back on the desk.
“Oh, you mean—”
“Exactly. And since I have antiquated rules about sex hardwired into my DNA, I haven’t been able to indulge. But what you and I have is a compromise.”
“A compromise?”
“Cameron, you can’t make fun of the way I talk, unless I can tease you about echoing everything I say.”
His mind raced, disorderly thoughts racketing across his brain. He wanted her. Now. Often. But he couldn’t risk reacting when she traded up. He still didn’t know what motivated her, so couldn’t be sure the next man who came along wouldn’t tempt her.
“What is it?” Lauren snuggled closer, the golden flecks in her green eyes gleaming. “I can feel that wall you build up. My lack of sluttiness is a turn-off for you?”
Cameron shook his head. “I don’t want you to be disappointed, to romanticize what happens with us. It’s a business arrangement. I don’t have the energy for emotional entanglements.” She’d been so bare, so honest with him; he owed her at least the truth. “I don’t have time to be that guy.”
“I don’t have time to be that girl.” She smiled, moving her hands to unbutton the cuff of his shirt and roll up his sleeve. “I have references. I’m a horrible girlfriend. I put in too many hours at work, take it home with me, can’t be at your beck and call when you need arm candy. I’m fiercely independent, stubborn, and hate to have someone trying to keep tabs on me.”
Cameron struggled to control his reaction as she moved to the other cuff.
“You can’t be a good boyfriend, I can’t be a good girlfriend. We’ll save the dating community a lot of heartache if we take each other off the market. Besides, we are together.”
He fisted his hands, barely able to hold back. If he let something happen here, now, there’d be no need to decorate. He’d always see it when he walked in the room. “Lauren, I don’t want you to make this situation any more complicated for you, to make it into more than you can handle.”
“I know I can’t cut casual encounters or partner exploration, but you and me I can enjoy.” She went to work loosening his tie.
“Partner exploration?” He stilled her hands, wrapping his fingers around her wrists.
“You have to stop echoing what I say.” Her voice trembled.
“What does that mean?”
She wrested her hands free. “That means I liked hearing you’re not interested in being with other women while you’re with me.”
The surge of emotions heightening his awareness startled him. He knew this blinding rush of adrenaline, had lived through the torment it created, but couldn’t understand why he felt it now.
Lauren stared at him and he knew she needed to leave, to get distance, both physical and emotional. He had to keep himself from asking all the questions he had, from learning too much.
“I didn’t do it, if that’s what you’re thinking. He asked, I wasn’t interested in being an entrée on his menu if it was a la carte.”
The painful look in her eyes made it impossible for him to walk away. She’d been scraped as raw as he had, had watched her life implode. Cameron knew better than to find common ground, but damn if he didn’t want to heal that hurt.
“Your turn.” Lauren leaned her head against his shoulder.
“For what?” He tried to detach himself for the situation, to ignore the soft way she spoke, the warmth of her on his lap, wrapped around him like she was molded to fit just so.
“Why did you say you can’t see me with someone else?”
Cameron stared straight ahead, wondering how much to tell her. He didn’t care to relive a single detail. He had to keep this from becoming personal. Professional and physical he could do, personal was not an option.
“You won’t tell me?”
Cameron stared at the door, fighting with the part of himself dying for her to stay, wanting to trust her. He knew better. On both counts. “I can’t.”
“Okay.” The look on her face showed him it was anything but okay. She reached for his hands, squeezing them in her own. “I need a key to the house.”
“What?” That certainly screamed personal relationship, which they’d decided not to have, hadn’t they?
“I could never be with a man who doesn’t trust me with a key.” Her grin lit up her face. “Don’t you want to see what I’ll do to the house before the dinner on Friday night?”