He laughs as I all but run to the parking garage toward his obnoxious car that takes up four parking spots. The lights flash and it beeps as he unlocks it for us. I climb into the passenger seat, and the moment he’s inside with me, I lay into him.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I screech, fury bubbling up inside me. “Anyone could have seen us!”

The smug bastard grins wickedly at me. “There’s an ‘us’?”

“What? No!” I peek out the windows, but don’t see anyone nearby, thank God. “You’re a stalker. I’m telling Mateo I can’t do this anymore.”

He shoves the key into the ignition and turns over the engine. “You’re breaking up with him over me? Those feelings seem early, but hey, women are fickle creatures.”

“I’m not breaking up with him, asshole. Stop twisting my words. You. You’re out of here. Tonight, I’m telling Mateo what a pig you are.”

He peels out of the parking spots and barrels out of the garage. I scramble to get my seatbelt on just as we fly out onto the main road. He pulls out some trendy sunglasses and puts them on, hiding his calculating gaze from me. I cross my arms and glare out the window. We pass several restaurants my co-workers or Mateo and I frequent, heading toward the bay. My anger for him simmers as he winds us down the roads overlooking the sparkly waters. Tension bleeds from me as I trade in my anxiety for the beauty before me. We drive into a parking lot in front of a long pier.

Snookie’s Clams.

I’ve eaten here a few times when I was a teenager, but never as an adult. Dad would probably want to have me tested for worms if he knew I stepped into this place again. I can’t imagine it could have gotten any better over the years. I’m shocked rich boy Camden chose it.

“I promised you lunch,” he grits out before exiting the vehicle.

I huff out of the car after him, my high heels catching on the gravel. His hard face breaks into a smile when I wobble on the rocks, nearly tumbling to the ground.

“Careful, Beckett,” he sneers. “If you fall, I’m going to catch you. And once you’re in my arms, I won’t let go.”

I know it’s a threat, but my body warms several degrees. “What did I ever do to you?”

Ignoring me, he turns and strides over to the pier. His long legs leave me in the dust to scuttle after him like a little crab. By the time I make it to the end of the pier where the restaurant is, he’s already commandeered an outdoor table.

I sit across from him and try to remain angry. My attempts fail when he chats with the waitress, telling her to bring us their specials. He orders a mixed drink for me and water for himself. The youngest Pearson is so sure of himself. I suppose money makes a man that way.

A man.

And, God, is he ever a man. So much man, I can’t seem to ignore him like I want.

His shades sit on his perfect nose, hiding his intense blue eyes from me. Since he groped me in the elevator, I blatantly inspect him, not caring what he thinks. Joke’s on me, though, because I like looking at him. He may be a smug, arrogant bastard, but he’s a hot one.

Shame courses through me, and the moment the waitress hands me a drink the same blue as his eyes, I shove a straw in it and begin sucking it down. Rum. Coconut. Blue raspberry. It’s good and cold and distracts me from the other delicious thing on this pier. Mateo was right. I do find him attractive. But I also hate his guts. My life was perfectly fine this time last week. Everything going as planned.

He is not part of the plan.

“Don’t drink that so fast,” he bites out. “I thought you had a headache.”

“I do, and he’s looking right at me,” I hiss back.

He shoves the basket of bread across the table at me. “Eat, smartass.”

Unlike when Mateo chastises me, I don’t feel like I’m in trouble. Nor do I care. But I am hungry, so I grab a cheesy roll and bite on it unladylike. His lips twitch as he fights a smile.

“Feisty,” he says, his grin growing as he gestures at me.

“Fucker.” I wave back at him.

He throws his head back and laughs, scaring some gulls nearby. My flesh heats once again, and I blame the rum. I pick up my glass and suck more down, all the while, checking out my nemesis.

Deciding ignoring him is better, I turn my view to the bay behind him. I wonder if he sails out there or goes into the gulf. I’d ask him if he could act like a normal person, but I can’t trust him not to turn it sexual. The warm breeze blows some hair into my face, and I push it away.

“Seems like a messy bun day.” He leans back in his chair, resting his ankle on his knee, and motions to my hair.

I run my fingers through the slightly tangled locks and shake my head at him. “I was told messy buns reveal a messy person.” Wincing, I try not to think about one of the big blowout fights I had with my father over my future.

Camden remains silent. When I look up at him, his jaw is clenched and he appears angry. I don’t understand him. I hate the way he’s slammed into my life and trying to mess everything up.

“I’m going to the dinner tomorrow night,” he blurts out.

I frown. “The governor’s?”

“Yes. You and Mateo are going to take me.”

“No.”

“I really like it when you say yes,” he growls. “I need this connection.”

His words calm me. It’s not some fancy scheme to bed his old babysitter. Mateo told me all about Camden’s aspirations. Meeting with Mike would be beneficial to him. Hell, maybe Mike would even take over as his mentor, relieving me from the awful task.

“I don’t know,” I mutter.

“Say yes, Poppy.”

I exhale as more hair flies into my face. “You can’t embarrass me.”

He laughs. “You do that all by yourself, beautiful.”

Fire flashes through me. “I was doing just fine until you came along.”

“Say yes, Poppy.”

“You’re an ass.”

“Say yes, Poppy.”

I start to open my mouth, but he blurts out a question at the same time I give in to what he wants.

“Pink means sex, hmmm?”

“Yes.”

He laughs again, and heat burns my cheeks. Tears prickle at my eyes. This time, when the wind blows the hair in my face, I let it hide me. I’m going to cry. Tough, hardened Poppy Beckett is going to cry in front of this rich prick.

Pink does mean sex. It used to not be on my calendar at all, that is, until I had to start begging for it. Mateo, while a good bed partner, doesn’t initiate sex often. It’s one of the only times I truly feel like I’m part of him, like we belong together, and he seems to not be that interested in it. Especially now that we’re engaged.

“How’s the headache?”

The voice is close. Soft. Gentle.

A sob catches in my throat.

Hot, strong fingers catch my hair, and he pushes it behind my ear. He kneels in front of me in his expensive suit, looking sorely out of place. Beautiful and caring. Not a Pearson at all.

“Open up,” he mutters.

My brows furrow, but then he shows me two migraine pills. I accept the medicine, relishing the soft touch of his fingers, and then let him bring a glass of water to my lips.

This looks so bad.

Young, sexy Camden kneeling in front of his old babysitter.

If the press got a hold of this…

“Thank you,” I rush out, waving him back over to his seat. “I’m fine now.”

He rises and sits back down, surprisingly backing off. We eat the most delicious lunch I’ve had in years in companionable silence. After lunch, he tosses down several hundreds as we stand. The waitress lets out a squeal as soon as we walk away.

“Sir!” she calls out after us. “You left too much! Your bill was only fifty-two dollars.”

He turns, walking backwards, and grins at her. “Keep it. Vote for me as president one day,” he jests.

Her laugh is loud, carrying over the gulls and breeze. “You’ve got my vote, Mr. President.”

He beams at me before turning to walk beside me. When we reach the end of the pier, he tosses me over his shoulder, and I scream out in surprise.

“Camden! What are you doing? Put me down!”

He playfully swats my ass as he carries me over to his Bugatti. “I’m doing you a service. Can’t have you breaking your ankle on my watch, Popps.”

My heart flutters for so many reasons.

Camden is trouble. Big trouble.

As soon as I get back to the office, this all needs to come to an end. If I don’t stop it now, it’s going to escalate into something that will blow up in my face.