Читать книгу A Cinderella Affair - A.C. Arthur - Страница 6

Camille Davis swung the door open with so much force the knob slammed against the wall with a bang and the three people sitting at the conference table looked up instantly.

Out of breath from running down the hall to get to the designated conference room before this bogus deal could go any further, she stood there for a moment, chest heaving, suddenly unsure of what exactly she wanted to say.

“What are you doing here?” her stepmother asked as she stood, tossing her a more than disdainful look.

As Camille’s heart rate slowed her anger grew. Moreen Scott Davis, her father’s second wife, was impeccably dressed in a dark blue suit with silk lapels. Her glossy black hair framed her flawlessly made-up face. She looked like the twenty-first-century version of Diahann Carroll. Too bad she had a long way to go to ever be that classy.

“I should be asking you the same question,” Camille said, taking a step closer to the table. There were two men gaping with surprise from her to Moreen but she wasn’t concerned with them at the moment. Right now her top priority was nipping the Merry Widow in the bud. A task she’d been unhappily executing for the last three months.

That’s when her father had died.

Randolph Davis, multimillionaire, A-list Hollywood producer, Moreen’s third husband and Camille’s beloved father, died of coronary disease in Cedars-Sinai Hospital one rainy July night at nine forty-five.

Camille was ten years old when Moreen, the tall, sexy model, had come into her room on her father’s arm being introduced as her new stepmother. Camille had hid her fury initially, waiting until she’d had her father alone to explode. Even then Randolph had an uncanny way of calming her down. She’d been thoroughly upset at the thought of her father with another woman but then he’d explained things to her in a way that had her thinking only of his happiness. Camille loved her father too much to ever do anything that would make him unhappy.

She only wished his new wife had felt the same way. From day one Moreen made a point of informing Camille that decisions where she, the child, was concerned could no longer be manipulated through Randolph. That would now be Moreen’s job. Private schools, summer camps and endless classes on etiquette and grooming were Moreen’s idea of the perfect childhood. They were Camille’s idea of torture.

Camille’s mother had died when she was eight, from complications of pneumonia, her father said. And for two years Camille and her father had been close, relying only on each other to survive the darkest time in their lives. The darkest time, that is, until Moreen came. Her father was completely brainwashed by the sexy vixen.

Camille hated her.

That harsh emotion spun from the brash and uncaring way Moreen had of reminding Camille that she was not her child and that she was not worthy of all her father had showered on her. Remarks like, “I don’t know why we waste money sending you to etiquette class, you’ll never amount to anything,” “You’re so plain, so unattractive,” “You’re too short and too pudgy,” had been the norm in the Davis household.

As a result, Camille struggled with depression and roller-coaster weight loss and gain. Finally, when she was in her second year of college Camille had collapsed. She was exhausted from working as an assistant in a design house and taking a full class load, and she was malnourished from trying to be like the skinny models she worked with on a daily basis. In essence, she was slowly killing herself.

Finally, when Camille had felt as if she were at the end of her rope, she’d decided to try seeing a counselor. That was her saving grace. Her counseling sessions were private, a place where she could share her innermost feelings without fear of her father finding out and having to face his rage at her exposing what he would have termed “private matters.” She told of Moreen’s verbal abuse and was rewarded by the fact that she was not the cause of her extremely low self-esteem, Moreen was. But even finding the cause didn’t always heal the wound.

Now she was in a face-off with Moreen yet again. Only this time Camille planned to come out on top.

“I’m taking care of business,” Moreen huffed.

“You’re trying to sell my father’s house without my permission.”

“I don’t need your permission.”

“I own half of that house.” Camille took another step closer to Moreen and tried not to flinch at the heated waves of animosity emanating from the woman to her. “You can’t do anything with that house without my approval and my signature.”

Then, as if she finally decided to acknowledge the two men still sitting at the table, Camille looked in their direction and asked, “Did you know that I owned half the house? Did you know that what you’re trying to do here is illegal? Do you know that I can sue the pants off you and your big brass corporation for attempting to fraudulently buy my property?”

Her heart was pounding again and she didn’t wait for their answer as she swung back to Moreen. “I don’t know what it’s going to take for you to get through your head that he left everything…down to his socks…to you and I. Fifty, fifty. Now I have no idea why he’d do such a fool thing but I am attempting to deal with that. You, on the other hand, seem to think you can do whatever it is you please no questions asked.”

“Now you just wait a minute, young lady.” Moreen stepped away from the table to get closer to Camille. “I don’t know what’s come over you—”

That made two of them because Camille didn’t have a clue where she’d gotten the nerve to jump on a plane to Las Vegas, bumrush a major corporation and interrupt a meeting she was sure was worth millions of dollars. But at the present time none of that was relevant. The only thing that mattered was saving the house she’d grown up in, the house her mother had lived in.

She’d found out that Moreen was attempting to sell the house from her best friend and business partner, Dana Palmer, whose mother ran in the same social circles as Moreen. And she’d dropped everything to get here in time to stop her.

“I’m tired of dealing with your drama. Your father catered to you but I certainly will not.”

“Ah, it seems that you two have some sort of personal issue going on here. But we were in the middle of a meeting and—” a male voice interrupted.

Camille paused, almost stopped breathing as she listened.

It couldn’t be.

She’d dreamt of that voice.

Every night for the last six months, except for the two weeks after her father’s death, she’d dreamt of that voice, that man.

The deep timbre resonated throughout her entire body. The sound moved from her ears and slithered down her spine spreading familiar spikes of warmth in its wake.

Camille paused, then moved in a way that had her convinced the entire room had been switched to slow motion.

Their gazes met and held.

“—ah, we were…” The man in her dreams cleared his throat.

It was him. From the close-cropped hair and smiling eyes to the strong jaw and not-too-thick lips. It was him and she didn’t know how to react.

The man sitting beside her dream man stood. “What my partner is trying to say is that you and Mrs. Davis should probably deal with your family business at another time. We are in the middle of a very important meeting.”

Moreen interrupted. “I must apologize. This is my stepdaughter, Camille Davis.”

The man extended his hand and nodded. “I’m Maxwell Donovan.”

Camille accepted his hand with a brief nod. He was certainly easy on the eyes with his caramel-toned skin and funny-colored eyes. But he was nothing in comparison to the man beside him. The man she couldn’t bring herself to look at again.

“This is my partner, Adam Donovan.”

Camille sighed. The man in her dreams now had a name.

It would be rude not to look at him now especially since he was also standing and extending his hand. She took a deep breath and accepted his hand as well.

In her more fanciful thoughts she expected sparks to fly or maybe fireworks to explode in the distant sky at their first touch. What she didn’t expect was that warmth his voice had solicited to swirl and center in the pit of her stomach then slowly slither lower.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Davis. Since you obviously have an interest in this deal, why don’t you take a seat and join us,” he said in that voice that Camille swore would make any woman scream.

Camille sat, ignoring Moreen’s evil glare from beside her.

“As I was saying,” Max continued. “This meeting was simply to get an idea of what was on the table. We haven’t made any formal offers nor has Mrs. Davis accepted anything from us. However, we have done some preliminary investigation into the property. The property is a value all by itself. And the house, while in good condition, can be worth almost double once we’re finished with it. Your father was a businessman—I’m sure you would agree that he would at least entertain our offer.”

“It’s too much space for me, Camille. And you haven’t lived there in years,” Moreen pleaded.

“It was my father’s house. I was born there and I grew up there. It’s not for sale,” she said adamantly. “If she informed you otherwise then she was out of line.”

Camille stood to leave. In her mind there was nothing more to discuss.

She expected the silence. Or maybe she expected Moreen to start on one of her tirades. What she did not expect—but probably should have since this seemed to be the year of surprises for her—was the touch on her arm.

“Why don’t you hear us out and then decide if you’re interested?” Adam asked.

Adam already knew he was interested…in her, that is.

The moment she walked in that door, he’d remembered. He’d sat in his seat and replayed the night he’d first met her.

His brother Linc had just gotten married, effectively disrupting the reputation of the Triple Threat Brothers. That’s what Adam and his two older brothers were known as because of their good looks, hefty bank accounts and irrefutable desire to remain bachelors. Now the three were down to two, but Adam wasn’t complaining. Linc had made a wise choice. Jade was a good woman and she made his brother a better man.

The wedding reception had gone into the early morning hours, long after the bride and groom had left for their honeymoon. Adam had been ready to leave.

Then he’d bumped into her.

She smelled of chic, expensive perfume and felt like silk the brief moment she was in his arms. He distinctly remembered looking down into her pixielike face, falling into deep chocolate-brown eyes, slightly slanted with a soulful depth that reached inside and clutched his heart instantly. Those eyes held secrets, pain and a longing he could almost identify with, and yet he didn’t even know her name.

“Sorry.” She spoke and the smoky sound of her voice slid through him with a slow and steady warmth, like fine wine.

He hadn’t released his hold on her, although she was perfectly secure in standing on her own. He just couldn’t bring himself to end the connection. She wore short sleeves and the soft skin beneath his hands was simply too tempting.

“Don’t be. It was my fault. I should have looked where I was going,” he’d said because he should say something. After all, staring was rude.

She made a move to leave and he panicked. “Wait! I mean, ah, are you staying at the hotel or just visiting?”

Tilting her head to the side made her hair—silky brown strands stopping abruptly at her chin—swish to one side, covering half of one eye. She stared at him and the low hum of attraction vibrated in his groin. She was shockingly sexy. Why that was a shock he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“I was in the casino and now I’m trying to leave. Is that okay with you?”

There was a definite bite to her words but the sarcasm didn’t reach her eyes. He focused there because if his gaze dropped down to her lips again he’d most certainly have to kiss her. Then as if a lightbulb had gone off in his head he’d remembered who and where he was and released her. “Of course, it’s okay. It’s getting late—I just wanted to know if I needed to call you a cab or not.”

She blinked, curiosity brimming in those alluring eyes. “No, thank you. I think I’ll be fine.”

She did move around him then, and when he’d turned was walking away with quick, purposeful strides. She wore slacks, nice, dark slacks designed most likely for comfort or businesslike attire that mysteriously aroused him.

He’d sighed and returned to the ballroom to enjoy the festivities. And while she was gone from sight her presence still occupied space in his mind, so much so that sleep had been hard to come by.

He hadn’t forgotten her but he hadn’t expected to ever see her again, either.

Now she was here, standing in the conference room of Donovan Investments, Inc., throwing a very attractive monkey wrench in one of his biggest acquisitions.

She was the same and yet she was different. Her hair was swept up into a curly style that gave her an air of sophistication that didn’t quite fit her. She was tense and guarded; agitated and uncertain. And he wanted to know why.

“I’m not interested,” she said.

And he felt a slap to his ego. He had to remind himself that she wasn’t telling him she was not interested in him personally. Still, her words stung.

“Just hear us out.”

She sighed heavily and walked back to the table. Over her shoulder Adam caught a glimpse of Max’s approving expression and suppressed a grin.

Donovan Investments, Inc. was growing steadily. He and Max were renowned for their sound investments and profitable turnarounds. It all began with a vacation in Bermuda three years ago. He’d ventured away from the resort where he was staying, walking along enjoying the view when he’d seen it. On a hill, almost hidden by trees, twin towers of beauty. Upon closer inspection he’d noted that beauty most definitely was in the eye of the beholder since the building was empty and almost in ruins. But Adam sensed the possibilities and bought it. His brothers were livid and about to harass him into getting rid of the dilapidated property but Max had come to his rescue. He’d flown to Bermuda and shared in Adam’s vision. They renovated the hotel and sold it for twice what Adam had paid for it.

From that moment on they’d made one lucrative deal after another. Adam was a very rich man, although he would have been rich without Donovan Investments. But earning his own money seemed so much more appealing to Adam than just living off what was his solely by birthright.

“It really makes sense to go ahead and sell, Camille,” Moreen said.

Adam looked at the older woman. This was his first time meeting her in person. Max had taken care of the initial phone calls and scheduled this meeting. Adam sensed a lot of hostility between the two women. As much as he didn’t want to get involved in any family feud he couldn’t help but feel like Camille needed someone on her side.

“You took my father away from me. Is it really imperative for you to take everything?” Camille asked.

“What are your intentions for the house?” Adam interrupted. He’d heard the sincerity in her words and the pain. Randolph Davis had died three months ago, three months after the first time he’d seen her. He remembered the look of discontent in her eyes that night in the casino and couldn’t help but notice that it was magnified now.

And then she looked at him and Adam felt as if he were sinking, falling into those deep brown eyes, into her pain and despair. A part of him hurt for her and he suppressed the urge to go to her and hold her.

Adam had always been the more caring of the Donovan men, the compassionate one who had a soft spot for the ladies. Once upon a time that soft spot had garnered him a broken heart. Kim Alvarez was her name. She was his college sweetheart, the woman he’d been ready to spend the rest of his life with, until fate had stepped in and shown him the error of his ways.

And while Adam had sworn never to take that route again he didn’t miss the opportunity to help a damsel in distress when he saw one. Somehow he knew that Camille’s distress was unlike any other he’d ever experienced.

“I…I don’t know,” she stammered.

“Exactly,” Moreen continued quickly. “That’s why we need to go ahead with this deal now. Camille, they aren’t going to wait forever for you to make up your mind.”

“My mind is already made up,” Camille retorted.

Adam looked at Max who appeared to be at the end of his rope with this meeting. “Okay, why don’t we do this. Mrs. Davis has a room at the Gramercy, right?”

Moreen nodded. “Yes. I do.”

“Great. Then if Ms. Davis does not have a room I’m sure we can get you one since my brother owns the hotel.” Adam smiled because he desperately wanted Camille to smile, too, and because he hoped his mention of the hotel reminded her of the night they first met. “Then we can meet again tomorrow morning after everybody’s had the chance to digest these new developments.”

“I already have a plane ticket to go back to L.A. tonight,” Camille said.

She had the prettiest complexion, like a cup of hot chocolate, and the way she stared up at him made her look even more vulnerable. Not caring how out of place it was or that Max would definitely have something to say about it later, Adam got up from his seat and walked around to the other side of the table. He knelt down next to the chair she sat in and took her hand. “Why don’t you and I have some dinner and discuss what it is you have in mind for your father’s estate. I’ll share what Donovan Investments is offering and then you can decide. If you’re still not interested I’ll take you to the airport.”

She seemed to be thinking it over. He however, was loving the feel of her smooth skin beneath his touch. She smelled sweet and alluring, just as she had before. This was a big deal for him and the company and Adam had a strange feeling that Camille wasn’t going to easily be convinced to sell the property. He hated to admit that at this moment that wasn’t his top priority. Spending more time with her was.

“I don’t want to sell,” she said quietly.

“Just give me a chance to talk to you,” he implored.

Then as if she knew he’d been holding his breath waiting for that very action, she smiled. His insides warmed and the voice of dread echoed in the back of his mind.

This was so unlike her. Camille did not date often and when she did it was with men she’d met on more than one occasion. However, tonight she found herself sitting in the only restaurant on the ground floor of the Gramercy Hotel with the man who had haunted her dreams for months. She’d already missed her flight back to L.A. so it was agreed that she was staying in Vegas.

She’d remembered the weekend she’d spent here. The weekend she’d been Dana’s maid of honor and had been forced to do her bidding. Well, she couldn’t exactly call it being forced.

Dana Palmer was Camille’s best friend and had been since the summer Camille turned eleven—the summer after her father had married Moreen. A soft smile touched her lips as she remembered the impromptu slumber parties on those nights when Moreen was just too much to stand and through each of her bad relationships. Dana had provided that sense of balance Camille needed. When Moreen would verbally attack her, stripping her of all self-confidence and self-esteem, Dana would attempt to build her right back up.

Camille would do anything for Dana. Almost anything.

“This is your weekend. For three days it is my job to do whatever I can to make you happy,” Camille remembered saying. It was at that precise moment that he’d walked in.

The same man she’d bumped into on her way to meet Dana. This was Camille’s first trip to Vegas and her first time in a real live casino. She had no idea that casinos were hotels as well as money pits.

He’d been extremely attractive and he’d made her nervous. She was happy to get away from him, yet sad that she hadn’t had enough courage to talk to him like a sane adult woman.

“I want you to sleep with him,” Dana had said as she took another sip from her drink.

Camille had followed her gaze and immediately began shaking her head negatively.

“Uh-huh. You are out of your mind.” She had immediately turned her back to the “him” Dana had been referring to, her hands already beginning to sweat.

“Come on, Camille, he looks positively yummy!” Dana had squealed.

“Then you do him,” Camille had shot back while reaching for her drink. She’d gripped the glass, brought it to her lips, then decided she needed something much stronger. “Rum and Coke, please,” she’d asked the bartender who thankfully appeared just in time.

“I’m about to be a married woman, I can’t do him. But you’re single, so you should go for it.”

Camille had tossed Dana a disgusted look. “I am happily single and couldn’t manage to ‘do him’ if I tried.”

“What are you thinking about over there?”

His voice startled her from her memories and Camille jumped in her seat. She’d been so caught up in her thoughts that she’d forgotten she was now sitting across from the man she’d refused to “do” almost six months ago.

“What? Oh, I’m sorry. What were you saying?” She picked up her napkin and placed it in her lap. She needed something to do with her hands to keep them from shaking. Dating wasn’t something Camille proclaimed to do well. And that was mostly because she was self-conscious about her looks.

Taking a deep breath, Camille reminded herself that this was not a date. And that while Adam Donovan was her sexy dream guy, she was in no way the subject of his dreams. This was business to him. Business, she reminded herself, was something she could definitely do.

“I noticed. You were pretty deep in thought. Do you want to share?” he asked.

He looked at her quizzically, not disapprovingly, she quickly noted. “No. It was nothing.” She cleared her throat. “I’d rather talk about you. I mean, I’d rather talk about your plans for my father’s house and why you approached only one of the owners.”

Their food arrived so conversation was stalled for a few minutes. Adam had ordered the Porterhouse steak and roasted potatoes with steamed asparagus. Camille’s stomach lurched as the waiter put a huge salad in front of her. She attempted to focus on her salad, sprinkling it with lemon juice instead of salad dressing.

Adam took a bite and moaned. “Linc has got the best chef in town. I swear I’ve been to just about all of the upscale restaurants in Vegas and have never experienced a steak so tender and seasoned as this one.”

Camille stifled a moan of her own and stuffed a forkful of lettuce and croutons into her mouth. When Adam looked to her for a response she simply smiled and nodded.

“Is that all you’re going to eat?” he asked as he cut another piece of steak.

She nodded. “Yes, I’m not that hungry.” That was a blatant lie and if he could only hear the revolting sounds her stomach was making he’d know that.

“I never could understand how rabbit food could fill a human stomach. My mother serves a salad with every meal. Made me want to puke when I was growing up.”

Camille smiled and tilted her head to stare at him. “I’ll bet you were an obedient child,” she said absently.

“And you’d lose every dime of your money.” He chuckled. “My mother could tell you stories of how mischievous I was. One time when my cousins were at the house I convinced them and my brothers to take the mattress off our beds and slide down the grand staircase in the foyer.” He laughed loudly then. “We had the best time.”

Camille laughed with him because his smile reached his eyes which held hers captive. She laughed because the deep, sincere sound of his enjoyment touched a spot in her that she was sure she’d lost long ago. “What did your parents do?”

“Mom blistered my butt something terrible. But that was nothing new. Out of my three brothers I got in the most trouble.”

Camille stopped eating, placing her elbows on the table. Then as if she were right at the table with them, Camille heard Moreen’s shrill voice chastising her, “Take your elbows off the table.” Abruptly she pulled her arms down and dropped her hands in her lap. She prayed Adam hadn’t noticed but the moment she looked up she knew he had.

“Ah, are you older than your brothers?” she asked quietly.

Adam took a sip of his wine. “I am the youngest of the three and I’m twenty-nine.”

“I don’t have any brothers or sisters.”

“That must have been pretty lonely for you growing up, huh?”

“Yes, it was.” She found herself about to tell him how lonely and how painful her childhood had been but then she remembered this was not a social evening. She sat up straighter in the chair and resumed the pretense of enjoying her salad. “So you didn’t tell me why you thought you could buy a property with only one owner’s consent. You and your brother don’t strike me as simple-minded businessmen.”

He almost choked on his food and Camille quickly lifted his glass of water and handed it to him.

He nodded and took the glass from her. “Thank you,” he murmured. He took a gulp then set the glass down. “You are correct. My brother and I are not simple-minded. This deal came up kind of sudden. I assumed that Max had taken care of the legwork, which I am sure he did. Details must have gotten misconstrued somehow.”

“Yes, the tiny detail of my name beside hers on the will. Misconstruing details is right up Moreen’s alley,” she said dryly.

“You don’t like your stepmother much, do you?”

“Does it show?”

Adam chuckled and held his two fingers together. “Just a tiny bit.”

Camille smiled again. Adam Donovan had a way of making her smile. That was something she wasn’t used to with a man. Actually, she wasn’t sure she’d smiled at all in the past six months.

“But now that we know there are two owners, we will approach the deal accordingly. Donovan Investments has no desire to cause a family feud or to face any legal hassles.”

“Good. Then you can tell your brother that there is nothing to approach. I don’t want to sell my father’s house.”

“So you plan on moving into it?”

“No. I have a condo in the city. It’s close to my shop and it’s my own personal space. I need my personal space.”

Adam nodded. “I know what you mean. Our house was big but it was always filled with people. So I couldn’t wait to get a place of my own where I could stretch out and do my own thing.”

She didn’t respond. She didn’t want to talk about personal things with him anymore.

“So what kind of shop do you have?” he asked.

“Ah, it’s a design shop. I’m a fashion designer.”

Adam contemplated her words. “You’re CK Davis Designs?” he asked incredulously.

Camille slammed her fork down then took a deep breath trying to control her wayward emotions. “Don’t sound so surprised.” She couldn’t help feeling a bit hurt by his question. As if she, the ranting woman that had interrupted their big meeting, couldn’t possibly be capable of owning a business.

“I wasn’t in any way insulting you. I own several of your suits and my mother loves your stuff. I’m just amazed that I’m actually sitting here with you.”

That’s it, she was a goner. Camille’s heart fluttered and turned somersaults at his words. He was flattered to be here with her. She could just picture him in a CK Davis suit. The head of her men’s department was Palio Victor, a very talented man who obviously knew what other men were looking for in clothes.

Here she was having dinner with a notoriously handsome man who had just admitted to being happy to be with her. If she were naïve enough to believe that she could have that type of luck she’d be ecstatic at the possibilities presenting themselves. But she knew better.

Adam Donovan was happy to be with her for one reason and one reason only, her father’s house.

This was business to him. She was just a way to get the deal he wanted.

It wasn’t personal. He wasn’t really sitting here with Camille, the woman. Why would a man as rich and good-looking as he was ever want to do that?

Adam watched her closely. There was something about the way she looked. She had very expressive eyes, ones that gave away each and every emotion she felt at the exact time she was feeling it.

He’d watched her go from simmering anger to eager curiosity to extreme sadness. And with each change his need to know her better increased.

Now, he watched the way her gaze flitted around the room, to see if anyone was watching them, he presumed. He rarely gave consideration to other people or what they said about him. As one of the Triple Threat Brothers he was always in one newspaper or another. Whether it be about his business or what the press assumed was going on in his personal life, he and his brothers had garnered their share of front-page appearances. He’d learned long ago to take it all in stride.

Adam sat back in his chair and gave this situation as much serious thought as he could muster at the moment. His carefree persona did not allow him to overly examine situations like this. The one thing he knew for certain was that he liked Camille Davis.

He’d watched her back at the office as that conference room had cleared. She was graceful and elegant, yet still a bit timid. He hadn’t tried to touch her as he’d so desperately wanted to, but instead had led her out of the room and to his waiting car in front of the building. She’d sat close to the door as if she planned to throw herself out of the car if he made one false move.

And a lot of moves had crossed his mind. Her perfume was soft and delicate and floated through the interior of the car, casting him under a heady sensual spell. His blood pumped hard and fast throughout his body, desire building a wall of tension at the base of his neck as he sensed this would not be an easy conquest. Some women took more time, more finesse than others. Camille Davis was one of those women.

“Your father was a good man,” he said because she was looking like she was about to take off at any moment. That confused him a bit. She seemed to have a very contradictory personality. She’d barged into that meeting this afternoon with confidence and spunk but now that she was here, alone with him, she seemed tense and withdrawn. “I met him once about a year ago. That’s when I first got the idea to buy his house.”

Her eyes focused on him. “You asked my father if you could buy the house? What did he say?”

“It was a very impromptu meeting. I was in L.A. I’d seen a picture of the house in a magazine at a hotel. I was so impressed by the photos I showed up on his doorstep. And because he recognized my name he let me in. He was very gracious and gave me a grand tour. I asked what the price tag was and he laughed.” Adam smiled as he remembered that evening. “He offered me a drink and told me that houses were for sale but his home was his sanctuary and there weren’t enough zeroes in the balance of the Federal Reserve that would make him part with it.”

She nodded. “That sounds like something Daddy would say.”

There it was, that tiny spark in her eyes, that wistful bit of happiness that she refused to take hold of. He wondered why she was so intent on being sad. “I don’t want you to think I’m a vulture. I did not pounce on this property the moment I heard your father had passed.” Her opinion of him was important. Why, he wasn’t quite sure.

“If you know that he didn’t want to sell it while he was living why are you trying to get it now?”

He sighed because her gaze pierced him. She was making him think about this deal way too deeply. “Because it’s my business. It’s what I do.”

“You buy properties that aren’t for sale?” she inquired while slowly lifting her glass to her lips.

He didn’t miss the bite in her words and found he preferred even that to her looking sad and defeated. “I find properties with the potential to make me a lot of money. I buy them and I renovate them. Then I resell them for a profit.”

“A shrewd business man, I see.”

Adam shrugged. “I’m good at it.”

“I’m good at cursing people out but I don’t do it for a living,” she snapped.

He smiled. “I’m not a hitman or a traitor. I’m an investor. It’s a legitimate business, not to mention a profitable one. It’s sort of like you being a designer.”

She frowned. “How do you figure that?”

“You look at old styles, old clothes that used to work or used to be in fashion. And then you put a new spin on them. You add more expensive material and your classic level of design.” He smiled because he could see that she was seeing the similarities. “And then you sell them, making yourself a tidy profit.”

She dropped her fork and glared at him. “Whatever. I am not selling my father’s house and this dinner is over.”

She was pushing her chair back, about to stand, when he reached across the table and grabbed her wrist. It was an impulsive move. He didn’t know why he’d done it and he didn’t know what he planned to do now that he had. All he knew for certain was that the thought of her walking out of the restaurant and out of his life again was too much to bear.

She stilled. He loosened his grip, letting his fingers rest complacently. He noted the erratic thumping of her pulse and wondered briefly if she were afraid of him. If so, he definitely wasn’t winning any brownie points. He took a deep breath and tried to regroup.

Women loved his smile. They said it made him seem more human, more approachable than his brothers. So he smiled.

She arched an eyebrow. “You can either let my arm go or I can scream for security. Which do you prefer?”

He pulled his hand away as if he’d been burned and watched in amazement as she stood. Never once in all his years of wooing women had his signature smile not worked.

Then, because she was about to walk away, he hurriedly stood and moved in front of her, being careful not to touch her this time. “I thought we were going to talk about the house. You haven’t even heard why I want to buy it.”

Camille rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her chest, an action that lifted her heavy breasts upward until he could see even more of the creamy mounds above the rim of her blouse. Adam swallowed. Hard.

“You said you buy houses and then sell them. That’s your job so I assume that’s what you plan to do with my father’s house. If so, I am not interested.”

Damn, she was sexy when she was angry. Adam had visions of having a knock down, drag out argument with her then scooping her up into his arms and releasing all that frustration in the bedroom. She would let loose then, he knew it instinctively. She would be uninhibited, passionate and seductive. His head pounded as the blood rushed from there to his groin. She would be magnificent.

“Are you not interested because you dislike me or because you dislike your stepmother?”

She gasped as if he’d struck her and took a step back.

He instinctively reached for her, catching her elbow before she could pull away. “Camille, I’m just trying to have an intelligent conversation about this deal with you. In all fairness you really haven’t given a valid reason for not wanting this deal to go through.”

“It’s my property. I don’t have to have a valid reason,” she taunted.

Adam sighed. He never worked this hard to get a woman into bed. He’d never had to. That probably made him callous and arrogant where women were concerned and up until now he hadn’t given that a second thought. But he readily admitted that Camille Davis was beginning to try his patience.

“Why don’t you tell me why you really want to hold on to this house. You have no intention of living there, so what—do you want it to be like some sort of shrine to your father’s memory?”

She did pull away from him then. “You don’t know anything about me or my father. You’re just used to getting your way. Well, it’s not going to happen this time.”

Before Adam could say another word he was watching the enticing sway of her hips as she walked out of the restaurant. Damn, that woman infuriated him. And made him hard as hell.