Chapter 18

Cameron was naked—gloriously naked—in her bed, tucked next to a lean, strong body. She ached a little, pleasantly so. Because of him.

It was delicious.

In public, Val had been the perfect gentleman—squiring her to Hermione’s party, making chitchat with the other guests, and being as polite as he possibly could be to her parents. But then, when he’d gotten her alone, he’d shown her what lay beneath that façade.

She opened her eyes to examine the man himself. Unlike his crisp appearance earlier in the night, he now looked rumpled, his hair falling over his forehead, a slight shadow on his square jaw where stubble was forming, and a little dampness on his chest from their earlier exertions. She liked him better like this, all messy and scruffy. It was more him. More real.

Val opened his eyes, then reached out and stroked her hair.

“What’s your middle name?” she asked.

“What you’re really asking is what middle name could possibly go with Valentine?”

She smiled. “Pretty much.”

“Thomas. It was my grandfather’s name. He died right before I was born.”

“Valentine Thomas Grayson,” she said, rolling the name on her tongue. “It’s kind of a mouthful, but it works.”

“Not as well as Cameron Endicott Stahl.” There was a long silence before he spoke again. “Your parents always like that?”

“Yes,” she admitted.

“Nigel isn’t like them.”

“No. He’s been hugely supportive of me.”

“And you’re not like them, either.”

“You don’t think?”

“No,” he said firmly, his eyes never leaving hers. “No.” He pulled up her hand and kissed her palm, his breath moist and hot. “How could you be? You’re the least fake person I’ve ever met.”

She shook her head. “You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do. You know exactly what’s important, and you’ve shaped the way you want to lead your life.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “That is the first time anyone aside from my uncle has said that. It was such a risk for me, starting my business.” And even Nigel hadn’t seen it as clearly as Cameron had. Nigel assumed, at least in part, that opening up a boutique was a way for Cameron to get back at her parents. He didn’t understand that it was her life—what she’d wanted to do ever since she’d taken her first art history class in college. That she was as obsessed with the furniture and the art as Nigel was. Her uncle was even getting her hooked on that pirate legend of the Siren Lorelei.

Val’s gaze bore into hers. “I’m not just talking about your work, Cam. It’s in everything you do. In the way you live.”

“You think too much of me,” she said, looking away.

“And humble to boot,” he muttered, turning her head to face him. “Cam, other women in your position wouldn’t even have looked my way. Would have thought me beneath them.”

“No,” she breathed. How could anyone not look at this magnificent creature? With his intelligence and laconic wit, not to mention his fantastic shoulders. She’d never paid much attention to a man’s shoulders before, but Val’s were just perfect—all carefully sculpted sinew and muscle. Then her cheeks colored as she thought back to the first time she’d seen him, half-naked on the beach. She had ignored him, and it wasn’t until he’d stepped into her world that she’d even given him a second glance. “I’m not that pure.”

“Thank God,” he said, and she laughed a little at that.

But then she sobered. “You’re putting me on a pedestal, Val. I can’t possibly live up to your expectations.”

“I’m not one for waxing poetic. Hell, I’m barely one for talking, but I gotta tell you that when we’re together, I want to talk, just to hear you laugh. To hear you say something back to me, all proper and polite. And when you look at me in that way with those eyes—the way you’re doing right now—things like your social status and my age and your parents and my job just kind of fade away. They don’t matter anymore.” He paused and swallowed. “Nothing matters, except for you.”

Tears she didn’t even know were there swelled and spilled over. “God, Val,” she said, trying to wipe them away. “You can’t just say things like that and not expect me to cry.”

His gaze softened. “I don’t want you to cry, Cam. I want you to love me.”

“I do. So much. It seems crazy. I mean, I haven’t even known you for that long, but I—”

“It’s not crazy,” he said, covering her mouth with his.

This time they made love slowly and so sweetly, she thought her heart would burst out of her chest. He knew exactly what to do to deepen their loving, to take it to an even higher level than it had ever been before. Steadily, gently, he built up pressure so intense she thought she would explode. She did, shattering apart in a blast the likes of which she’d never experienced.

And then, just as he always did, he caught her and put her back together, piece by careful piece.

“Val?” Cameron’s polished voice reverberated in his ear. “Val, wake up. It’s late.”

“Late?” He opened his eyes. He never slept late. Cameron was propped up on one elbow, her glorious hair spilling over her shoulders. It was smooth and shiny. Too bad. He liked it better when it was all messed up from his hands. “What time is it?”

“Nine-thirty.”

“Just in time,” he said, wrapping his hand around her neck and pulling her down for a searing kiss.

She kissed him back for a long while before shoving at his shoulder with her hand. “Val, come on, I’m serious.”

“Serious about doing it all day? I’m game.”

“No.” A little smile played at her lips. “Although that does sound pleasant.” She shook her head, as if she were actually considering it. “Last weekend in Star Harbor, you showed me your secret spots. Today we’re in Boston, and I want to show you mine.”

He thought for a moment. “I could be up for that. Though I’d still rather be in bed with you all day.”

“We have tonight.”

“You’re staying?”

“For a few days.”

“Me too. I have a big meeting Monday morning, so I’d planned to sleep here tonight.”

“Here?”

He gave her a wicked grin. “My apartment. But I like the way your mind works.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing your apartment,” she said, somewhat shyly.

“You’re welcome to, but it’s not nearly as swanky as yours.”

Cameron colored slightly. “It’s not a contest.”

“I know, Cam. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It’s just that I don’t give a damn about my studio. The boat’s where I want to be. I just keep the apartment to make it easier on myself when I have to be in the city.”

“You could stay here, if you like.” She frowned. “Though I have to say I was thinking about asking Cecile to come stay here for a while.”

“She needs to get out of your parents’ house, doesn’t she?” he said flatly.

Cameron blinked. “How did you …” She shook her head. “I’ve given up trying to figure out how you just get everything. But yes, I think that some distance from my parents would be good for her. She graduated from college a couple of years ago. She got a marketing job, but my mother made her feel so guilty about it—about working—that all the life went out of her. I think Cici caved rather than fight, and I can’t figure out why. Maybe some distance would help.”

“Do it,” he said. “Invite her.”

“But then where would you and I …” Her voice trailed off again. She was just adorable when she was trying to figure out the sex stuff.

“Cam,” he said, cupping her cheek. “You can always stay with me. That is if you can stand sleeping in a half-furnished studio in the Fens.”

“Hmm,” she said, as if seriously considering the prospect. “It’s not Beacon Hill, but I suppose it’ll do.” She sounded so snobbish, he had to laugh.

“You’re getting a sense of humor.”

She smiled. “I thought you’d like that. Of course it doesn’t matter where you live. As long as you have a bed.” She paused and narrowed her eyes. “You do have a bed, right?”

“Nah. We’ll have to do it on the couch.”

“Heavens!” she breathed, feigning shock. “That sounds terribly improper.”

“You’ll see just how improper it is when I get my hands on you in my dirty, fleabag flophouse.”

She laughed, sweet and low. And he was done. Cooked. Gone.

He kissed her again, and once again, she pushed him away. “I am serious, Val. We are going out today. I already took a quick shower and you can do the same.”

“Fine,” he muttered, “but I need to find my pants. That’ll take way too long.”

She leaned over the side of the bed, giving him a delectable glimpse of backside. “Here they are,” she said sweetly, dangling them in front of him.

Resentfully, he grabbed them and swung his feet over the side of the bed. She made some kind of satisfied little noise, which he took as his cue to search for the rest of his clothes. Of course, while he was searching he needed to follow her with his eyes, taking in every inch of her delicious body. A body he couldn’t wait to have under him again. How would she react if he crossed the room and took her into his arms, caressed her until she couldn’t see straight, and carried her back to bed?

He turned to watch her getting dressed, quickly and decisively.

Not well.

So instead of licking her from head to toe the way he wanted, he dutifully gathered up his clothes, took a quick shower, and got ready to go out.