Читать книгу Catching The Corporate Playboy - Michele Dunaway - Страница 12

“Ugh!” Darci jerked her hand back as soda cascaded over the edge of the cup. “Of all the snobby jerks.”

“Calm down, girl. It’s only a glass.”

Darci wiped up the cola mess on the counter. “I wasn’t talking about the machine, Val. I meant that guy over there. Do you see him?” She pressed on, not waiting for the older woman to take a peek. “Do you know who he is? He’s Cameron O’Brien. You know, the one who just bought the Monitor?”

Val was unabashed in her stare. “Ooh. Look at that blond hair. And those forearms. Yum. Hey, wasn’t he named one of America’s Most Eligible Bachelors?”

Darci gritted her teeth. “I don’t know. Was he?”

“You should know. It was that magazine with all those beautiful bachelors. You bought it yesterday ’cuz the sexy firefighter was in it.”

“Oh, all right. So he’s good-looking. But he’s a snob with no redeemable qualities. You should hear what they’re talking about. They’re taking some poor girl and making her into a society brat. Like in My Fair Lady.”

“I’d be his fair lady.”

Darci wanted to pull her hair out, but that would mean removing her cap, a violation of Grandpa Joe’s sanitation policy. She again reminded herself she loved Grandpa Joe. “I can’t believe you, Val!”

“Oh, come on. I’ve been married for forty-five years, but I ain’t dead. I get to look.”

“You’re no help. Think of that poor girl!”

“Child, you’ve got to learn not to worry about those things that don’t affect you. Now go serve that hunk of man his soda. He’s thirsty, and you’re wearing it.”

Darci looked down in dismay. Cola-brown had destroyed the last hope of her semi-white apron. “Great.” Because of Cameron O’Brien and her grandfather’s sexism, she’d now need to assault her nose with the smell of bleach. She hoped that at least would get her uniform clean.

With an angry jolt she placed the offending glass of soda on a tray and headed back to serve the hotshot Cameron O’Brien. He’d be lucky if she didn’t dump it on his head.

CAMERON WATCHED HER walk toward him. She’d even had trouble pouring his soda. And yes, Miss Waitress-from-Hell, they did call it soda in New York City.

Whatever. It was either Pepsi or Coke. He’d never been one to tell the difference or care. And St. Louis, in his opinion, was still a cow town. Even more so now that he’d met firsthand a product who’d probably grown up drinking the water.

“No, I think she’s perfect,” Lee said. “I saw her name tag. It’s Darci.”

“Darci,” Cameron repeated, damning his fate. “Sounds flighty to me.”

“Yeah, well, you have to admit she’s not a dog.”

“No, that she isn’t.” He could at least admit that without losing ground to his friend. Besides her legs, Darci’s backside held promise. Her face was a mite bit plain, but makeup would help that.

And Cameron could tell that her body was in shape. That was a big plus. A good salon would do wonders with her hair and her face. Hell, they did makeovers on those talk shows all the time.

“One soda.” Darci made a point of setting the drink down in front of him. Blue eyes with a rim of dark blue glared at him. “Finished?”

Cameron glanced at his plate. After a few bites he’d stopped eating the fiery concoction. “You can take it. Lee?”

“I’m done. So, Darci, are you from St. Louis?”

“I am,” she replied in a tone that said she didn’t favor any further questions.

She shot Cameron a nasty look as she placed the plates on the tray. She didn’t even attempt to hide her annoyance. “You didn’t like it?”

“I’m not hungry.” He offered her a smile, but she didn’t even appear to see it.

She tossed her head. “Your loss.”

No, the tip would be her loss, Cameron thought, trying to gain some satisfaction from this irritating situation. Then he checked his negative thoughts. He had to make this abrasive woman the cream of society, and worse, make his father and his sister think she was the cat’s meow. And all without telling her. That, according to Lee after they’d discussed the bet further, would have been too easy.

“So, you live here, Darci?” Cameron began with his best charm, but she’d already moved off, the plates in her hands.

He turned back to see Lee laughing. His friend gestured, and made a sound like an airplane crashing and burning. For a moment Cameron felt every bit of his thirty-four years.

“You know, Cameron, this is going to be great. She’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. Come on, let’s pay our bill. You can come back tomorrow once you figure out what you’re going to do. I sure hope you’ve got some ideas. You’re going to need them.”

Cameron’s vexation mounted as Lee had the audacity to whistle all the way to the cashier. Cameron snagged the bill from Lee’s outstretched fingers. “My treat.”

“Everything fine?” The older woman in front of him smiled. Her bright-red hair clashed with the pink cap on her head.

Cameron read her name tag. “Everything was fine, Val.”

He felt her green eyes size him up. “That’s good. You’re Mr. O’Brien, right?”

After having his picture splashed all over the local St. Louis papers, her question didn’t faze him. “Yes, I bought the Monitor.”

“I like that paper,” Val said as she handed him his change. “Now don’t forget to give Darci a good tip. It’s only her third day.”

“I’ll be sure to do that.” He walked back over to the table. Only her third day. That figured. He wondered how old she was. Early twenty-something, he’d wager. She looked a lot younger than his sister did, and Kit turned thirty in a few months.

He dropped a fifty-dollar bill on the table. That ought to soften her up. He’d prefer to give Darci his two cents worth instead, but that would have to wait. No, he had lots of other tips for her, and she’d get those life lessons soon enough. And then he’d get the satisfaction of besting Lee once again.

It had better be worth it.

As he turned from the table he caught her staring at him. She boldly held his gaze for a moment before turning around.

Her haughty action surprised him. Tip number one, Cameron thought as he strode out the door. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.

DARCI SLAMMED the dishes down on the counter. The nerve! The gall! Didn’t they know she had ears and that she had heard every word of their insulting conversation? Were they that stupid?

She drew a breath and counted to ten before exhaling again. Of course they were. They were men. If men were smart she wouldn’t be propelling pellers in front of drunks and second-shift employees. No, she’d be sitting in a corporate office at Jacobsen Enterprises doing a job that required her MBA and her brain.

Of all the nerve. Of all the gall. Just who did Cameron O’Brien think he was? He’d made a bet with his friend, and it involved her! He didn’t even know her! Didn’t he know people had feelings?

And the look on his face when he walked out. Well, she didn’t care if he thought he was God. What gave him the right to think that she, Darlene Cecelia Sanders, was a lowlife because she worked in a diner? What gave him the right to judge her on her appearance and think that he could turn her into a member of society? Why would she want to meet his father and sister anyway? She’d been to New York once, and she didn’t like it.

“Darci, I cleared your table. Those hot guys gave you a fifty-dollar tip.” Wanda held the money out to Darci.

Cameron O’Brien had left her fifty dollars. Anger filled Darci. As if she could be bought. She had a million-dollar trust fund. He thought her so pathetic he’d left her fifty dollars.

Well, she didn’t need his money. But Wanda did. The single mom struggled to make ends meet by working two jobs. “You take it, Wanda.”

Wanda’s mouth fell open. “It’s a fifty-dollar tip, Darci.”

Darci retrenched for a moment. No one working in the diner, with the exception of Val, knew she was Joe Jacobsen’s granddaughter. While they might suspect she was a disowned heiress because of her Porsche, no one knew the truth.

Darci attempted to convince Wanda to take the money. “Seriously, Wanda. The guy was a jerk and treated me like a tramp. It’s a matter of principle. Besides, I won some money in the lottery.”

The last part was a stretch, but if being born counted as a lottery then Darci figured she’d won by being a member of the rich Jacobsen family. She just hoped Wanda didn’t ask, “Then whatcha doin here?”

But Wanda still appeared stunned as she shoved the cash into her pocket. “Gee, thanks, Darci. I need to renew my license plates and this will really help.”

“No problem,” Darci said. She glanced at the clock. Only one more hour before quitting time. Sighing, she reached for the plates being shoved out from the kitchen.

After serving the order she returned behind the counter. “Wanda told me what you did,” Val said.

“I wasn’t taking his money,” Darci snapped. “I’d give Wanda all my tips if she’d take them.”

“Nah. She’s no charity case, that girl. But when I told him to give you a good tip I didn’t think you’d get one that good.”

Darci’s anger flared. She blew out her breath. “Do you know why? He’s trying to butter me up! You know that bet he made? His friend picked me! Me!”

Val’s mouth puckered. “You get to be his fair lady? Ooh.”

Darci paced a little. “No way. Who does he think he is? God? He wants to make me a member of society? Well, the joke’s going to be on him. I’m not playing. Then there’s no way he can win his stupid bet.”

Val made a clucking noise and Darci whirled to face her. “Girl, you need to hop on the clue train. If you don’t play he’ll just get someone else. You want to make him pay? You need to play.”

Darci gritted her teeth. Darn. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

What Val said was true. Cameron O’Brien didn’t have a clue who she really was. He didn’t know she had grown up with dance lessons, etiquette lessons, garden parties, and that she had earned two degrees from Harvard.

No, he was just like those boys in high school. Mr. Super Stud O’Brien was the one needing to be moved down a peg or two. Determination flashed in her eyes.

“You’re absolutely right, Val. Cameron O’Brien needs some comeuppance and I’m going to deliver it, right over his playboy head.”

“That’s the spirit. Then I get to look at him again. He sure is fine.”

“Oh, please. He’s a pig.” Exactly like those guys in her senior year of high school. That humiliating incident would never go away, so permanently was it etched in her memory.

She gazed at her hands, finding she’d clenched them in determination. Fury still filled her. No, Mr. I’m-More-Beautiful-than-God O’Brien had a think coming if he thought he was going to win this bet. The only person who was going to win this time around was Darci. Watching Mr. Super Snob lose would not only make her day, but if she played her cards right maybe she could finally get rid of her personal demons once and for all.

Well, that and finishing this greasy job at Grandpa Joe’s Good Eats. She’d had just about enough of people not thinking she was qualified and that she had to prove herself.

The issue thus resolved, she thrust her chin forward in determination. She moved out of Wanda’s way and turned around to walk out from behind the counter.

She gasped and caught herself before she crashed into him. She now stood nose-to-nose with Cameron O’Brien.

AFTER WALKING with Lee to their respective cars, Cameron had changed his mind about returning to the hotel. Heck, the sun would be up in only about another hour or so, and therefore he might as well watch it rise over the Muddy Mississippi.

So, after Lee had pulled out and driven away, Cameron had closed the door on the rental Mercedes convertible, and he had walked the short distance back to Grandpa Joe’s Good Eats. Cameron planned to be in St. Louis only two more weeks, so if he intended to win this god-awful bet he’d just been suckered into, he didn’t have a minute to lose.

Darci’s blue eyes blazed. “Don’t you even think about asking for change or telling me you made a mistake,” she snapped.

He chuckled, amused at her defense tactics. She was a spitfire, reminding him of the tabby cat his sister had found near their Long Island summer home. The cat had finally warmed up, but it had taken a while before its claws weren’t the first things out every time someone approached.

“Steady,” he said, stepping back slightly to give her space. “I’m not here for change. I knew what bill I put down on the table.”

She eyed him suspiciously and jutted her cute chin. “Health complaints go to Val, not that we’ve ever had any.”

“I’m not here to complain.” He tried his endearing smile again, the one society pages had made famous, but she just clenched her jaw. Stubborn little thing, he thought.

Now that he was even closer to her he could tell her eyes had pale blue lines moving from the iris to the outer rim. Almost like starbursts. Wow. Her eyes were beautiful.

“So why are you back? Did you just want to stare at me, or do you actually really need something?”

He blinked. Had he been staring? “Sorry. I came back because, because…” Now, after stepping inside the restaurant again, this didn’t seem like a good idea after all. Never before had he ever had to pursue a woman. And he definitely wouldn’t have pursued one who radiated the impression that she thought him less than dirt.

“Because?” she prompted, again stepping out of Wanda’s way.

His frustration built. Never had he been so at a loss with a situation involving a woman. He didn’t like it one darn bit. “Look, could we talk for a minute? It’s clearing out, and—”

“I’m working,” she snapped, effectively cutting him off.

His sharpness in business saved him. “Then I’ll take a cup of coffee.”

“Work the counter, Darci,” Val said walking by. She gave Cameron a wink, and taking her hint he settled onto an empty stool.

Darci brought him an aged white porcelain cup and saucer and slopped black coffee into it. One of the first things he would have to teach her was how to pour correctly. Coffee hit the bottom of the cup, bounced back out and slopped over the edge before making a ring on the saucer. Definitely not the best way to serve it.

“Cream and sugar are on the counter.”

“Thanks,” he told her, “but I take it black.”

“Suit yourself.” She scrunched up her face into an irritated smile and walked away. He watched her move, studying her figure and everything about her. Darci had a basic grace to her, he decided as he sipped the strong black brew. She could be molded. He’d have to watch that movie. Maybe it had some ideas for him to try.

“Darci,” he called. “Do you like musicals?”

“No,” she replied, and poured another customer some coffee. Cameron noted that this time she managed not to spill one drop.

“What about boating?”

“Water makes me sick.”

Well, he’d gone from a one-word answer to a four-word answer. He could tell progress with Darci would be measured in little steps.

“What about the symphony or the theater?”

“Closed for the summer,” she shot back.

“What about the Muny, the outdoor theater in Forest Park?”

“The Muny gets hot. Any other questions? I’m sorry I didn’t bring my bio for you. Let me know before you come in next time and I’ll be sure to have it prepared for your arrival.”

She walked by and splashed more coffee into his cup. He jerked away to avoid the stray cascading droplets. “Darci.” He said her name slowly, cajoling it off his tongue. “Darci, why do you hate me so much? What have I done?”

Her nostrils flared slightly, and those gorgeous blue eyes narrowed. Her full lips thinned. “Hate you? I don’t even know you. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

Ah, he thought. More reaction, more words. A little more cajoling and she’d start to cave in and realize her outbursts were actually the opposite of what she wanted. Something had ticked her off, and she wanted to let him know it. She just wasn’t going to come right out and say it, whatever it happened to be.

“Darci,” he tried again. He had to convince her to trust him or he’d have no chance of winning the bet. “You don’t know me. You’ve judged me unfairly. Could we change that? Once you get to know me you’ll discover that I’m really a nice guy.”

She looked like a high-strung filly he’d purchased a stake in once. Spirited and oh, so beautiful. “Your money can’t buy me, Mr. O’Brien. I’m not for sale.”

Cameron leaned back. So she knew who he was. That was it. Being poor herself, she probably had a dislike and distrust for the infinitely wealthy. “Ah. I understand now. You think the tip was just a calling card. You think I’m trying to offer you more.”

“I’m not for sale,” she repeated, the tone of her voice a bit more forceful this time.

He began to chuckle. Whenever he knew the enemy, the enemy never stood a chance. “No, my dear misguided Darci, let’s clear up this misunderstanding. Val told me to leave you a nice tip. That’s all I did. I have no need to buy female services, believe me. Finding a female companion has always been the least of my problems.”

She glared at him for that brazen assertion, and she pushed wayward blond hair up under her pink cap. “You’re a pig.”

Suddenly he had an urge to free her hair from the tight confines of the cap and see what those blond locks really looked like. “Darci, Darci. You’ve prejudged me. Give me a chance to prove you wrong. Come see the sunrise with me.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I really am a nice guy.” Well, at least he thought he was.

As she planted her hands on her hips, he leaned forward and pulled one of her hands away. As he did, a wanton shock coursed through him, burning him. Despite his internal signals suddenly going haywire, he managed to maintain his composure. It wasn’t easy. “Come with me,” he repeated.

Like a doe caught in the headlights, Darci stared at him wide-eyed. “Why? Why me?” she whispered, and he wondered if she was as affected as he was by the oh-so-sexy skin-on-skin contact of their hands.

“Because you’ve intrigued me, Darci.” He massaged her fingers with his. “I want to get to know you, and by that I don’t mean let’s just hop into bed.”

“Oh.” She gently detached her hand from his and dropped it to her side. “I’m off in fifteen minutes, but really you shouldn’t—”

“Perfect. I’ll wait.” He planted himself firmly onto the ratty old stool. As she moved off he smiled to himself and sipped his coffee. When it really came down to it, who could resist him?

AS DARCI MOVED out of earshot of Cameron, Val pulled her into the kitchen. “Well?”

“I gave a pretty good performance, didn’t I? I had him eating out of my hand. All I forgot was the quivering lip of submission.”

“If that was acting, girl, then you get an Oscar.”

Darci laughed. Then, for a moment, uncertainty crept in. When Cameron O’Brien had grabbed her hand a sensation had ricocheted through her, and it wasn’t one she was familiar with. But Cameron’s type was one she’d learned to handle, so at that thought her confidence bolstered again.

“So,” Val said, “what’s the scoop?”

“I’m leaving with him to go watch the sunrise.”

“Ooh-ee.”

Darci bristled. “Stop saying that. It’s not like that at all. I’ve got to convince him I’m an uncultured hick, and then pretend I don’t know he’s trying to culture me. And I have to do it all without him figuring it out. So forgive me if I pretend to fall at his feet just a little bit. He’d find it strange if I didn’t. He thinks he’s irresistible, as if he’s God’s gift to women. My actions are only for show, believe me.”

“Oh, I do, girl. I’m glad you’re not going after me. You’re a mean one. Anyway, your shift’s over. Enjoy the sunrise.”

Darci nodded. “That’ll be the best part of all this I’m sure.” She reached into her apron and handed all of her tips to Val. “Leave this where Wanda won’t suspect.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Good.” With that Darci strode out to face her new nemesis. She dropped her eyes to her feet and then looked up at him, her smile wary. “Look, this isn’t really necessary.”

He glanced up from his coffee. “Yes, it is.” When he smiled at her Darci had to calm her fluttering heart. Boy, he could probably charm snakes out of the grass. She bit back her anger at that thought. She could control this. He was using her to win a bet, and he didn’t know that she knew. Piece of cake.

“Really.” Darci made her voice shake with uncertainty. “I should just go home.”

“Not an option.” Cameron stood suddenly, topping her five-foot-six figure by only four inches. No, definitely not her type. She liked them tall, dark, and handsome. Cameron didn’t fit the bill. Not at less than six feet with sandy-blond hair and the palest blue eyes she’d ever seen.

At obvious ease in his polo shirt and khaki shorts, he brushed some lint off his shoulder. “Do you need to change clothes?”

“This is all I have with me.” She smoothed the food-covered apron. “I had planned on going home. Look, Mr. O’Brien, I’m not dressed to be seen with you. This is a bad idea.”

“It’s a good idea, and please call me Cameron. Mr. O’Brien makes me sound like my father.” He gestured toward the restaurant door, and with a slight bow of her head she acknowledged his gesture and led the way.

Surprisingly, Cameron didn’t say anything about her unsightly appearance as he followed her from the restaurant. “Val told me you’d only been working three days. How’s it been getting accustomed to the graveyard shift?”

“Fine.” Being a night owl she actually preferred to sleep longer during the day and work longer at night. Of course, that would change when she moved back to the corporate office in some position much higher than a clerk in the mailroom.

“Great,” he replied. “Would it sound presumptuous if I asked you back to my hotel? It’s a suite, complete with a living area that has a fantastic balcony. I’ve got a great view of not only the Arch, but also the river.”

Play along, Darci, she told herself. “Um, I don’t know about that.” The hesitation in her voice added a bit of a breathless quality to it. Boy, was she good.

“It’ll be innocent. Trust me. If not, the press would hang me out to dry.”

“You get a lot of press?”

“Nah.” He sounded so innocent, but Darci knew he’d just lied outright. One of America’s most eligible bachelors didn’t get any press. Yeah, right. Mr. I’m-Really-a-Nice-Guy probably graced the New York tabloids on a daily basis.

“So, my suite?” One of his blond eyebrows arched up with his query.

Boy, was he smooth. At least she knew he didn’t want to take her to bed, unlike those popular boys in her senior year of high school. That made it slightly better, but despite that, it hurt to know that he was using her because he did want something. He wanted to win his bet.

“Okay, but just for the sunrise,” she told him. “If you even attempt anything else I’m going to knee you in the groin and have you arrested. Comprende?”

His eyes widened at her vicious verbal assault. “Got it.”

“Good.” Darci paused and scanned the restaurant’s parking lot. “Where’s your car?”

“Over here.” He led her to a jet-black convertible. “Do you have one?”

“A Mercedes? No.”

She had to admit he was handsome when he laughed. Dimples formed and his eyes twinkled. “I meant a car. Parked somewhere near here.”

“Oh.” She fought for control and smiled vaguely. He didn’t know that her Porsche Boxter was safely ensconced behind Grandpa Joe’s in the private lot. Being that Grandpa Joe’s remained open twenty-four hours a day, her one indulgence wouldn’t be bothered behind the locked security gate.

“No. I don’t have a car,” she lied brightly. Two could play the lying game. “I usually take the bus. They start running pretty early. I never have to wait too long.”

“Well, I’m old-fashioned enough to see my dates to their door so I’ll take you directly home afterward. No bus for you today.”

He didn’t add “and won’t that be a rare treat” although Darci knew it had to have crossed his mind. The man infuriated her. In order to control her temper, she clenched her fist. “Okay,” she gave him a bright smile as she began the next lie. “I’ll let you drive me home.”

She slid into his car and waited while he closed her door. As he got in she ventured brightly, “Does the top go down?”

Somehow she managed to suppress her laughter when a look of sheer panic and disbelief crossed his face before he masked it. “You want the top down? I’m at the Adam’s Mark. It’s only a few blocks away.”

“I’ve never been in a Mercedes before. Put the top down and let’s go for a drive! I’ll take you to the best place to watch the sunrise. It’s a park on the south side. Take 55 South. Besides, I’d feel much safer if we went there. I’m not dressed for the Adam’s Mark. Is it nice? I’ve never been inside.”

“It’s great, as is your idea to go to a park.” The car roared to life and Darci leaned back against the seat and bit back another grin. She’d always been one to figure out the solutions to problems, and right now the solution was to play Cameron O’Brien like a piano concerto. Given his ego, it was turning out to be easier than she’d ever have thought.

He now had her pegged as a stereotypical blond bimbo. Dumber than a stump, nothing but fluff upstairs, and too idiotic to do much else besides wait tables in a diner.

She chuckled. “Oh, how wrong you are.”

“Did you say something?”

“No.” She shrugged and smiled.

He put the top down and began backing up. Darci stuck her hands straight up and waved at a passerby. The man waved back. “Wow! This is great. I’ve never been in a convertible.”

“Really?” he asked, keeping his gaze on the road.

“Really. Ma always had junk heaps, if her car ran at all.”

His voice sounded noncommittal. “I see.”

They were passing the domed football stadium and Darci studied the billboards circling the top in order to hide her grin. She hoped she wasn’t laying it on too thick. She didn’t want to overdo her story too much. They passed the exit for the Adam’s Mark, and drove past the hotel itself.

“Ma wasn’t big on knowing about cars. One time the man at the garage told her she’d ruined the engine by not changing her oil for over two years. She told him she didn’t know you were supposed to do that.”

“Really,” he replied, concentrating on maneuvering through where Highway 55 divided from Highway 44.

“Yeah. She said she should have kept Dave around. He at least knew how to fix cars. He only lived with us a few months though. I don’t know what happened to him.”

“So, do you still live at home?”

“No. I’ve got my own place. Ma moved to Cape, and as I got older she couldn’t entertain her boyfriends. I’ve been on my own since I was eighteen.”

Oh the webs we weave, Darci thought as she took in Cameron’s horrified reaction. She’d have to remember this story. Personally, she thought it pretty good. She silently said a little prayer asking her mother’s forgiveness. A former vice president of the Junior League, her mother would die of mortification if she’d just heard her daughter’s outrageous lies.

He slanted a gaze at her. “So how old are you?”

“I’m twenty-five.” That much was true. “Oops! It’s this exit. Sorry, I never drive, you know.”

Cameron, driving over the speed limit in the fast lane, jerked the wheel quickly. Much to the annoyance of the other drivers that he cut off, he made it to the exit. Darci waved at a man who flipped them off.

“Boy, you’re a great driver. You know, I think you might be an okay guy after all.”

“Thanks. As for the driving, I’m from New York. The stories about the cab drivers are true.”

“The big apple?”

Cameron cringed. “Native New Yorkers don’t call it that.”

“Really? Why do people call it that? Does it look like an apple?” Darci bit her lip to check her laughter when he refused to answer her.

Instead, she pointed out where to turn by flinging her hand in front of his face. Using gestures she directed him to the riverside park, and its parking lot. “We’ll need to walk,” she told him.

“Walk?” Cameron looked shocked. “Are you sure you don’t want to go back to the Adam’s Mark?”

“Yeah.” Darci hiked her skirt up and hopped over the car door. She giggled as she righted herself. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

He looked absolutely aghast. “Well, you just did.”

“Yep.” She flashed him a childish smile to cover her internal satisfaction. Poor Cameron. You thought this bet would be easy, didn’t you? Still, she had to admit he was being a sport for being such a fish out of water.

“Come on, slowpoke. I think the path’s over here. Oh, here it is. It’s a bit overgrown, but not too bad.” She turned and studied his shoes. Custom-made loafers. Too bad it had rained yesterday. She gave him a beguiling smile.

What was a little mud between friends?