Читать книгу What's A Housekeeper To Do? / Tipping the Waitress with Diamonds: What's A Housekeeper To Do? / Tipping the Waitress with Diamonds - Jennie Adams - Страница 13

‘YOU’LL be completely safe, Lally, but you may not feel safe for a moment or two.’ Cam’s gaze searched her face.

‘Whatever it is, I’m ready.’ Lally ignored the breathless edge to her voice and the nervous tension that went with it.

Cam clasped his fingers loosely about her elbows. ‘This would all happen very fast. She wouldn’t have time to think, but for the point of this exercise I’ll talk you through some of it. I want your thoughts on what her reactions would be.’

It was automatic for Lally’s hands to come up and splay against his chest through the cloth of his dinner jacket. The evening bag was over one of her wrists. ‘I think your heroine would feel her heart-rate speed up, and she would tell herself to be careful. Be very careful.’

Cameron’s glance rested briefly on her mouth. ‘She doesn’t know whether he intends to kiss her, attack her, accuse her, hold her at gunpoint, try to overpower her or throw her over the edge. Is he on to her secrets?’

‘And is she on to his?’

No sooner had Lally got the question out than Cam drew her back a little from the edge. He swept her up in his arms in a lightning-fast move. One hand came under the back of her thighs, the other cupped behind her shoulders. Her handbag was jammed between their bodies. His face was inches from hers.

They were a safe distance from the edge but, oh, it didn’t feel safe in those first moments. Lally caught her breath and a soft gasp of sound left her parted lips. Her free hand locked around the back of his neck.

‘Easy.’ Cam felt Lally’s arm lock around the muscles in his neck, and he took two long steps, not towards the edge but parallel to it. ‘Sorry. I need to know how my male lead would feel carrying her.’

‘If he’s doing it to get closer to the edge, she’d be fighting him.’ Lally’s words brushed against his temple and cheek. ‘She’d struggle to get free.’

Lally was tense, but not struggling.

Cam had to think about his characters. The research. He could see the characters clearly in his mind.

That was great; his instincts told him he would be able to write this scene. He had his female character fixed now, defined, he knew who she was and that she would work well for his story. That issue was resolved for Cam.

What wasn’t resolved was his desire for the woman in his arms. That had been getting further and further away from his control since they’d first schemed this idea up earlier today. Maybe the excitement of it, the sheer fun of planning and executing it, was why Cam hadn’t controlled his other responses to Lally very well.

‘Yes, she would struggle to get free, but I’ll deal with working that out for myself or we can role-play it elsewhere. Even though we’re away from the edge, I don’t want to risk losing my balance or anything while we’re up here.’ He tried to sound focused and interested in the research. Not distracted…

‘If he does intend to throw her, the best thing she could do is refuse to release her hold on him, unless he was prepared to go over with her.’ Lally made this observation with what judiciousness she could find in the face of her distraction. Being held this way, held close to Cam’s broad chest, made thinking difficult. ‘Or unless he had the capacity to subdue her some other way before he tossed her over.’

In tandem with her words, Lally’s hand locked harder about his neck.

Cam moved his body enough to allow her to get her other hand free. ‘In the scene, she would struggle to get that hand loose.’

Lally added it to her hold about his neck. ‘So she’d hold on like this?’

‘At this stage, yes.’ God, his voice was way too deep, and his entire body seemed utterly focused on what he held.

And what he held was Lally Douglas in a flowing, beautiful dress that made her look both sultry and alluring. He felt the brush of the soft fabric over his hand where he held her in his arms; the hem wrapped around his trouser legs. He held Lally, her face upturned towards his, excitement and an edge of uncertainty stamped on that face.

It was not because she didn’t feel safe with him. There was apprehension of another kind, the sort a person felt when they entered uncharted territory with someone they found attractive.

Are you cataloguing her reactions now, Travers, or your reactions to her?

Cam stopped walking and murmured, ‘She would quite probably try to reach for the gun in her purse.’

‘Yes.’ Her words whispered into the stillness. She didn’t move.

Cam’s focus was on her face, his gaze touching on each feature—eyes, cheeks, nose, finally lingering on her mouth. His look, filled with want, desire and something perhaps deeper than both of those things, drew Lally’s gaze to his eyes and locked it there. Her breath stilled all over again. All around them was darkness and city silence, which was no silence at all, but it still shrouded them in isolation here while the world went by below.

Darkness and aloneness and consciousness.

Cam’s gaze met hers once more in the dimness, and everything slid into a different place for Lally. The evening; the slow meal and their talk about his writing and work projects; her determination not to look too deeply into herself: it had all mixed in together and blurred into this one moment that was so much more than the compilation of those parts. That really had nothing at all to do with those parts.

‘I shouldn’t have picked you up like this.’ He murmured the words, but he didn’t let her go.

Instead his hand wrapped more firmly behind her shoulders and he shifted to stand with his legs splayed apart.

His head lowered towards her. ‘Tell me not to…’

‘Not to…?’ But Lally knew. She looked into his eyes and she couldn’t say the words. How could she say those words to Cam when his gaze was on her this way, desire stamped across his cheekbones, burned into the shadows beneath his eyes, etched over lips that softened and dipped towards hers?

She should say no. She needed to protect her emotions and not take risks, but Lally could only wait while her lips softened in anticipation.

And then he was there. The kiss she had secretly longed for was happening.

His lips tasted faintly of coffee, and were both firm and gentle as he softly kissed her, oh, so softly, as though they had all the time in the world and all he wanted to do was this.

She’d thought she was holding her own, that she had control over this evening with him. That she had at least held on to a little of what it was all about, remembered they were doing this for his research and no other reason.

Well, this didn’t feel like research. Her lips softened beneath his and when he slid her slowly down his body until her feet touched concrete it felt natural and right to let his arms close around her, to step fully into his embrace and let the kiss take them where it would.

Cam made a soft sound in the back of his throat. He deepened their kiss, his lips caressing hers, moulding to hers, tasting and giving and taking. One hand splayed against the small of her back; the long, lean fingers of the other wrapped around her jaw.

Lally responded with a deepening of desire for him, but she also softened for him. Her emotions melted into a puddle inside her; if he’d wanted, he could have walked straight in and…

Well, she wasn’t sure. Taken whatever he wanted? Hurt her because she wasn’t ready to trust a man again, wasn’t sure she could ever do that again? She wasn’t sure she could trust herself.

Lally became conscious of just how intimately they were pressed together; their bodies were flush against each other from chest to knee. Cam’s fingers were stroking up and down her bare shoulders and back. Hers—were in his hair, clasping his shoulder while her entire body seemed to strain for closeness with his.

Oh, Lally. What are you thinking?

Lally forced her mouth to leave his, her body to draw back. Each action felt as though it took an aeon to execute. She shouldn’t feel anything towards Cam, not in this way. He was her boss; she was his employee. Lally felt panicked.

Think how Cam kissed you, Lally. How he drew a response from you so easily and so thoroughly, made you feel as though you were receiving your first ever real kiss.

Sam had made her feel that way. With Sam, it had been her first ever kiss. First kiss, first everything.

That was hardly the point here.

Well, what was the point? She couldn’t let herself be affected by what they had shared in these moments. She couldn’t let herself care again—

Lally forced herself to meet Cam’s gaze and opened her mouth to speak, to play this down, to say something about work or characterisation or research.

Anything.

But her lips still tingled from the press of his. Even now her body begged her to step back into his embrace, to take their kiss even further, prolong the closeness and connection.

Finally Lally found words. ‘I’m not looking for an involvement. Not that I’m suggesting you are. This…We forgot ourselves for a moment. There’s no need to make a fuss about it, but it mustn’t happen again; it’s not wise. You’re a busy man with loads on your plate, and your struggle to sleep to deal with, let alone a recalcitrant muse and a highly demanding business in Sydney. And I work for you!’

‘I know.’ He swallowed hard. Regret etched lines into his face that hadn’t been there before. ‘I understand all of that, Lally. It was wrong of me to kiss you. I’m not looking for a relationship. I don’t—that’s not in my agenda, and it’s not smart to mix work with that anyway. And you’re quite right. You wouldn’t want…’

Whatever he’d been about to say, he cut the words off, but the message was there anyway. He agreed with her. This kiss shouldn’t have happened. They had to respect the boundaries of their working relationship. He didn’t want her, not really. Not like that.

Lally drew a breath and blurted, ‘I didn’t mean to set up this night to lead to this.’

‘I know.’ His words were deep and genuine. ‘I had a problem with my writing, you thought of a great solution. We both got excited about it and in that excitement, for a few moments, we forgot ourselves.’

His summary of events left out a few things—such as the way they’d both become more aware of each other as the evening had worn on—but Lally nodded. ‘That’s right. I’m glad we got that sorted out.’ She forced a relieved smile. ‘Phew. Well, are we finished here? Do you have what you need for your research? Maybe we should head home—I mean, back to your property development.’

‘I have everything I need.’ Cam watched emotions flit across Lally’s face and felt them churn inside him. Kissing her had been amazing. Yes, he’d made all sorts of comments on how that had come about and why it shouldn’t have and everything else. Those comments were real and true; they just weren’t all of it. And they didn’t even begin to touch on how he’d felt inside himself as a result of these shared moments. Cam didn’t want to examine those feelings, but the thoughts came anyway.

He’d kissed her softly in a way he had never kissed any other woman. He’d kissed Lally after trying to ignore the need to do it all night. He’d kissed her to pay homage to her beauty and how lovely she looked in that dress. He’d done it because something inside him had needed to.

He couldn’t tell her any of that. Because Lally didn’t want this. She’d made that clear and she’d looked scared when she said it. Scared from somewhere inside that Cam shouldn’t mess with because she could end up getting hurt, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt her.

He wanted to know what had hurt her, but he mustn’t mess with that either. He had no right, no claim on her, aside from being her very temporary employer, nor would he ever seek to change that. Cam didn’t want this either; he couldn’t pursue it. He’d only end up disappointing her, not being what she needed. He’d proved that about himself already.

He was an insomniac, workaholic, novelwriting businessman who couldn’t stay in one place, couldn’t rest, had no idea how to be a family. He and his mother might have been linked during his childhood but she hadn’t wanted him. And Cam had learned not to be wanted.

He’d tried to break out of that once, in his midtwenties. Gillian…

Cam had built up Gillian’s expectations, and when she’d realised just how much of him would never be hers, when she had come to understand just how much his past history and his insomnia impacted on his daily life, she’d been let down, disappointed and ultimately hurt. She’d wanted and needed more than he’d been able to give her. She’d been right to want that, and right to walk away.

They’d gone their separate ways and Cam had learned a lesson. He didn’t want to hurt a woman like that again. He didn’t want to set himself up for that kind of loss again either. He knew what he could and couldn’t have.

Yet tonight Cam had forgotten all that past history, that painful learning-curve that he’d sworn not to repeat. He’d kissed a slip of a girl on a rooftop, had found all this tenderness and all these other responses to her inside him. He hadn’t simply wanted to give them to her, he’d felt driven to bring them to her. That wasn’t something he’d experienced with Gillian; it wasn’t something he’d ever experienced with any woman.

That fact perhaps had driven him to kiss Lally. It had certainly made his reactions to her even more dangerous. He forced his arms to drop away from her, forced himself to take a step back. Every fibre of his body and mind seemed to object at once. If he drew her close again, he knew he wouldn’t want to let go at all. He’d take her hand, lead her back through this hotel, take her home and make her his completely.

Not happening, Travers.

‘We should go.’ He led Lally back the way they had come and ushered her into the service lift.

As the doors closed, Lally turned to him and said quietly, ‘Your book—did we achieve what you needed?’

It was a ploy to get the focus off them and back to the reason for this evening. Cam acknowledged this and did his best to further it. ‘I’ve decided the female character will be an undercover special-services officer, but she’s a double agent with marksman skills and a history as a hired assassin as well…’ Cam talked about his story until he had Lally out of the hotel and safely ensconced beside him in the car.

In the car’s dim interior, Cam could hear every breath Lally took, smell the soft scent of her skin and whatever lotion she’d rubbed into it after her shower tonight. He tried not to notice any of it.

‘I’m glad the research was successful and that you have a good understanding of this new character you’re bringing into your story.’ Her fingers fidgeted with the small bag in her lap. ‘You know, I really shouldn’t keep any of these things.’

‘Please. Maybe you’ll wear them some place again one day.’ And think of me. Was that what Cam wanted? His eyebrows drew together.

As they passed beneath a streetlight, Cam glanced towards her. The breeze had whipped at her hair, dishevelled it just enough to make him want to bury his hands in it, caress his fingers over her scalp and use that touch to tilt her head so he could kiss her neck, kiss her chin and find his way back to soft lips.

You’re not thinking about kissing her, remember?

They’d researched; that research had led to a kiss that shouldn’t have happened. A kiss that had blown him away, because she’d been so giving and he’d loved that and had wanted to give back in equal measure. Cam drew the convertible to a halt in an allotted space inside the property-development site. No matter how tempting, no matter how much she soothed him—no matter anything—he had to take due care that nothing like this happened again.

A woman like Lally deserved better than an insomniac workaholic who had no sense of family or ability to meet a woman’s deep needs.

There was no other way for Cam. No other way that he knew.