Chapter Two
Cameron didn’t say anything for a long time, and Ginger worried that she’d moved too quickly. His brows furrowed in a frown. Insecurity tightened the lines of his face, but his ingrained military conduct came to the fore.
“I’ll walk you up to your room,” he said finally, slipping off the stool to stand beside her.
He offered less than she expected, but she would take it. Maybe she could convince him to stay longer once they got up there. She rested her hand in the crook of his elbow as he stepped beside her.
She enjoyed walking with a man taller than her. It didn’t happen very often. Although she appreciated her height, and the career it had helped make possible for her, she found it tedious having to look down at everybody. Too many men became defensive when they felt short. Or they suddenly found it difficult to lift their eyes higher than her chest.
Cameron waved to the bartender as they left, and Ginger had a feeling the coffee would be waiting for them when they got to the room. The service at the Castillo Hotel was beyond reproach, but for the chief of security, it would be exemplary.
She stayed here whenever she visited the city. Her hometown of Chicago housed one of the hotels as well, and she often escorted business clients to the restaurant there for the remarkable five-star dining.
The staff members at both hotels were real and personable. They remembered her name and her preferences. More than once Ginger had called at the last minute, and the reservations department had always found her an available suite.
Madame Eve had some explaining to do, though, about the fallen through date. So much for her perfect success rate for 1NightStand.
Ginger pushed the worry aside and concentrated on her companion. She squeezed his forearm slightly, and the muscles beneath the jacket hardened. Oh, my. She wanted to run her hand up his arm, around his shoulders, to the nape of his neck, and into his short hair.
Her hungry body warmed at the thought of exploring him further, her knight in scarred armor. Although guarded right now, if he got over his insecurities he would probably be a wonderful lover. He had been very solicitous toward her, shifting to give her space yet staying close enough to clasp her elbow when she needed it.
All too soon, the glass elevator jetted them up the outside of the hotel. She glanced at the lit skyscrapers around them, but her gaze was drawn to her escort. Tension began to mount the closer they got to her room. Does he feel it as well?
The clenched muscles in his square jaw told her he did.
“Are you attached, Cameron?” Her breath stalled in her lungs as she waited for his reply.
His expression twisted. “What do you think?”
Ginger blinked at the self-deprecation in his tone. “I think a woman would be lucky to be with you,” she told him honestly.
Surprise lightened his bold features and his lips curved. “Well, thank you, but not everybody feels the same way.”
A story waited to be told there, and Ginger believed she knew what it was. Women could be ruthless, mercenary creatures, too worried about aesthetics. “Well,” she whispered, “they should.”
Although her words had been quiet, his gaze slammed to hers. In his eyes, she saw the burning, all-consuming need to belong. It was heartbreakingly obvious he wanted that as much as she did. If just for the night.
That need had driven her for years and made her different from everyone else she knew. Rather than chasing adrenalin all the time, she wanted a calmer way of life. That need had spurred her resignation from the Bureau. She wanted to belong to someone, not something.
They walked down the ornate hallway together, in step, all the way to her door. The coffee service waited outside. Cameron pulled a key card from his breast pocket, snapped it into the lock, and pushed her door open. She winked at him as she brushed by. “Master key, huh?”
He tugged the cart in and pushed it to the center of the sitting room, next to the coffee table. The suite was equipped with a formal area to receive guests, a small kitchenette, a bathroom, office, and expansive bedroom. More room than a guest should ever need.
Ginger kicked her heels off at the end of the sofa and padded to the small kitchenette. She retrieved porcelain cups, proud when her hand held steady in spite of her nerves. She filled them from the steaming carafe and handed one to him. “Have a seat.”
She took the other cup and curled up on the couch with her legs folded to the side. Cameron hesitated for a minute before sitting on the far end, one ankle crossed over the opposite knee. She counted it a small victory, because he could have settled in one of several other places with more distance between them. As she cradled her drink between her palms, she debated what to talk about.
“This is a very nice suite,” Cameron murmured.
She blinked, and tried not to laugh at the nervousness in his voice. He acted as if he had never seen it before. “It is,” she agreed. “Although I’ve never been in a bad one. Everything Castillo is top of the line.”
She let her attention drift around the room, hoping he didn’t realize she spoke about him. The room was beautiful, though. Black marble floors in the kitchenette, heavy brocade drapes, plush carpeting from corner to corner. Everything top notch. Floor-to-ceiling windows allowed the lights of the city to shine. Her eyes wandered to the open bedroom door. The freshly made bed begged to be rumpled. There was a soft glow from one side of the room, probably the small reading lamp.
Cameron followed her gaze then looked away. “What do you do, Ginger?”
She raised her brows at the obvious ploy. Okay. “I’m a corporate security analyst. Mostly business, although my firm does sometimes take personal events. Weddings, birthdays, special gatherings.”
He shifted on the seat. “I thought I recognized you when I saw your face, but I didn’t know for sure until you gave me your first name. I read one of your articles recently, about terrorist threats. Fascinating. And well-reasoned. I think you’ve done a couple of things for the family, as well.”
Ginger nodded, disappointed. He had known who she was the entire time. Her false sense of anonymity disintegrated. “I have. Jackson keeps my firm on retainer, as well, for certain occasions.” She sipped at the coffee. “You should’ve told me you recognized me.”
He had the good grace to appear shamed. “Sorry. In my defense, though, this is New York. Well-known people don’t always want to be noticed. I thought you were just another model until I talked to you in the bar.”
Ginger could understand his reasoning, so she settled against the cushions. She was used to the stereotype. Tall, slim women were a dime a dozen in the Big Apple. And so were celebrities. “I actually live in Chicago, where my company is based. But I take contracts all across the country. If they can afford me, I go to them.”
“So, do you have a job here this week?”
She reached up to run her fingers through her hair. “No, I’m here for the wedding of a friend. As a bridesmaid.” She couldn’t keep her lip from curling in disdain. “Actually, we haven’t spoken for several years, and the invitation came as a surprise.”
Cameron raised a brow in curiosity. “Why haven’t you spoken?”
She stared at the landscape across the room, remembering another night. “Her boyfriend hit on me, hard, and I laid him out. Then he told Amber I’d been chasing him. She chose to believe him, even though we’d been friends much longer than she’d known him.”
“Is this the same guy she’s marrying?”
“No, thank goodness. That happened several years ago.” She fingered the cup. “Coming to New York served two purposes. One, the wedding and possible reconnection with my friend, and two, the date Madame Eve set up. If the wedding goes as well as the date, it will be a spectacular trip.” She tried to think positively in spite of the trepidation gnawing at her.
Cameron leaned forward to set his coffee on the table. “I’m sure the wedding will be fine. Although the bride may not appreciate you outshining her.”
She laughed, as he meant her to. “Well, thank you. She’s beautiful, though. It may not be so clear cut.”
When he propped his left arm on the back of the couch, the distance between them suddenly shrank to a few inches. Ginger let her lids fall closed. The urge to sway toward him was almost overwhelming.
“There would be no contest in my book.”
His quietly spoken words slid through her like sweet wine, making her heart swell. Where had he been all her life? When was the last time somebody had just flat-out supported her, no questions asked? It had been a long time. Unable to help herself, she opened her eyes and let him see the emotion. “Thank you. You have no idea how much I appreciate that. It’s been so long since I’ve had a supporter.”
He reached forward, humming low in his throat at her distress, and cupped her cheek in his palm. His thumb swiped the tears away. “I mean it. You’re beautiful. You know that.”
She huffed. “Right. All six feet of me. With my big feet and saggy boobs.”
His face darkened. “You’re fucking beautiful! And what are you, thirty-three, thirty-four? Believe me, you have a long, long way to go before we have to put a bag over your head when you go outside.”
Ginger choked out another laugh, and allowed him to pull her into a gentle hug. She shifted her legs in the opposite direction and leaned into him hard, resting her head beneath his chin. Sadness battered at her emotions, brought on by those damn martinis. She didn’t normally get this maudlin. “I just thought I would be further along with my life by now. You know, attached, maybe thinking about a house and kids. Instead, I’m hiring a dating service to set me up just to have sex.”
His chest jerked then expanded beneath her as he took a deep breath. “I think we all planned on things being a little different. Honestly, I thought I would be on the same track. Well,” he paused, “not the sex part. But the wife, house, kids. A bomb in Iraq kind of changed that for me. You just have to roll with what fate gives you.”
Ginger burrowed her hand beneath his jacket and smoothed her fingers against his shirt. She stroked the roughness of puckered skin beneath the cloth. Cameron stilled when she touched him, and she made it a point to rub across as if the difference didn’t matter. But it did bother her. She didn’t want to think of him in pain. The idea made her throat ache with fresh tears.
“How long were you in Iraq?”
He didn’t say anything right away, and she worried that he wouldn’t. Hell, how could she blame him if he didn’t want to talk about it? Surely it was traumatic enough living with the scars every day.
“Two and a half years,” he answered finally. “I was two weeks shy of my tour being up when we hit a roadside bomb. Took out two of my buddies, and I didn’t come around for the better part of a month because of the painkillers. When I did, I wished I’d been killed along with my friends.”
Ginger gasped and pulled away enough to search his expression. The determined shine in his eyes and the set of his jaw told her he was serious. “You don’t still feel that way, do you?” She waited for the shake of his head before she allowed herself to relax against him again. The relief that washed over her was staggering. Crazy, but she already cared about him.
“No,” he sighed, “I don’t. Not now. When I regained consciousness, found out about my buddies, and got dumped by my fiancée a few days later, I wanted to die. Didn’t think it could get any worse. Then they started weaning me off the medication, and it did get worse. The pain just eclipsed everything.”
“How extensive are your injuries?” she asked quietly, still rubbing his chest.
Silence stretched out in the quiet suite, and she started to sit up. She’d veered too personal. She shouldn’t have asked. Keep it light.
Heavy arms stopped her retreat and pulled her tight against him, as if he needed the contact. His hand cradled her head, and he avoided her gaze. His deep voice rumbled beneath her cheek. “I’m burned over about forty percent of my body. Mostly on my left side. Around my shoulder and down my back. Most of my leg.”
Tears pushed at her lids again, and they slid down her cheeks to dampen his shirt. His heart thudded beneath her ear, too fast. It was obvious he worried what her reaction would be. Deliberately, she continued to glide her fingers over his chest, then down his belly and back up. Soothingly. “Do they still hurt?”
She felt movement above her. “No. They are still sensitive to strong light, and perfumed soaps irritate then. But otherwise, they’re fine.”
“Good,” she whispered. “What a terrible way to wake up. I think your ex needs a kick in the ass. You don’t leave somebody you love like that, no matter what.”
“Mmm, well, I don’t know about the love part. She was six months pregnant with some other guy’s baby when I came home.”
Ginger reared up in disbelief, her tears replaced by instant anger. “Are you serious? She got pregnant while you were on tour?”
He flinched. “It happens more often than you think. People get lonely.”
She had heard similar stories, but certainly nothing so close to her. And people would do a lot to ease their loneliness. “Do you have brothers or sisters?”
“I do, one of each, and they were great during my recovery. I moved home and went through rehab there. I’m from Ohio, originally, and my parents had a great VA hospital not too far from their house.”
“Well,” she murmured as she lay down again, “at least you had some support.”
He curled her to him, naturally. One hand rested on her shoulder, and began making circles, just above the low cut of the silk dress.
“What about you? Family?”
She hummed in sad amusement. “Well, I have people who are related to me, but family? No. My mother was too worried about finding her next husband to keep track of what her kids were doing. And my father left years ago.” Her fingers stopped moving as she thought about that part of her life. “I have a couple of siblings, but I don’t think they want anything to do with me. I tend to speak my mind when it comes to some of their decisions.”
He snorted and gave her a squeeze. “People are pretty fucked up, aren’t they?”
“They are,” she agreed. “But why can the two of us see it, and nobody else?”
“I don’t know.” He stroked her hair.
For a long time, they just held each other, content.
“You know I want you to stay tonight,” she told him softly.
Tension leapt between them, and the rubbing stopped. Once again, his heart thundered beneath her ear. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Ginger. We’re both pretty brittle right now. I don’t know about you, but I haven’t talked about this stuff with anybody before.”
She sat up and faced him. “All the more reason for us to steal tonight for ourselves. It doesn’t have to go anywhere. I don’t expect your undying love. But I would like to feel like I mean something to somebody.” Reaching out, she clutched his hand. “And I think you would, too.”