Читать книгу The Dare Collection July 2019 - Nicola Marsh, Katee Robert, Katee Robert - Страница 25

FOREBODING TOOK UP residence in Cameron’s stomach as the plane’s wheels touched down in New York. Their week in London had been as idyllic as possible with Trish, but even at its best, he couldn’t shake the feeling that a sword hung over his neck.

It didn’t help that Trish didn’t seem to realize she’d told him she loved him in a fit of passion—or that she hadn’t repeated the sentiment since.

He gently shook her awake. “We’re here.”

“Already?” She pushed her hair away from her face, but it immediately sprang back into place. “I didn’t expect to sleep so long.”

“You were worn-out.” The truth was, he was worn-out, too. Cameron needed a solid meal and eight hours of sleep and a couple days’ reset before he got his head on straight.

Yeah. Sure. As if that is all it would take.

The ground wouldn’t be solid beneath his feet as long as he stood in the shadow of a future without Trish. They’d promised to talk more specifically about what that might look like once they were back in the city, but as much as he wanted a clear conversation, he couldn’t bring himself to rush it.

Not when he suspected which way it would go.

So he reached out and laced his fingers through hers. “Let’s get dinner.”

She glanced at her phone. “It’s nine in the morning.”

“Breakfast, then. We’re not due back in the office until Monday. Come home with me.” He formed it as a command rather than a request because he had a feeling if Trish thought too hard about it, she’d try to put some distance between them.

Sure enough, she hesitated. “I don’t know... I think my own bed is calling my name.”

“If you fall asleep now, you’re going to have a wicked case of jet lag and you’ll be worthless on Monday.”

She made a face. “I know you’re right, but a contrary part of me wants to dig in my heels just because of how you phrased it.”

“You’re too smart to cut off your nose to spite your face.” He lifted up their entwined hands and kissed her knuckles. “I have an obscenely large tub. I imagine it would feel wonderful to soak out any kinks.”

“Now you’re just not playing fair.” She gave him a mock frown. “Fine. You’ve convinced me—on the condition that you don’t get weird about me doing laundry at your place.”

“Deal.”

She smiled a little. “It’s weird being back, right? All that time in London felt like a dream, and now it’s back to reality.”

“Not yet. Not until Monday.”

Trish hesitated again, but finally nodded. “I seem to remember my boss—he’s kind of a jerk, but he means well—telling me that under no circumstances was I to work on the weekends.”

“Sounds like a smart guy.” It might be a lost cause to hold on to the dream for a couple more days, but Cameron couldn’t bring himself to care. There was no damn reason for his certainty that things would blow up in his face the second they got back into the office. She’d told him she liked him. Fuck, she’d told him she loved him, even if it didn’t really count because of the timing. Surely that meant more than some plan he wasn’t even sure she’d put into motion.

But because he couldn’t be certain, he wasn’t willing to sacrifice any further time with her. “No work on the weekends—for either of us. No email. No work calls.”

“That’s a tall order.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone more than twenty-four hours in between email checks. It likely hadn’t happened since starting up Tandem Security. “A mini vacation.”

“I think it’s what normal people call weekends?”

He laughed and helped her stand so they could exit the plane. “I don’t know these normal people you speak of.”

“There it is again—that sneaky sense of humor you have.” She looped her arm through his as they walked through the gate and into the airport. “I’ll admit—a part of the reason I’m agreeing to this is so I can see your lair.”

“Lair? I’m hardly a vampire.”

“Well, no, not a vampire.” She shot him a look. “Not a werewolf, either. Definitely not a zombie. You’re more likely to like the Highlander or one of those other immortals with a quest for vengeance. Loner-ish. Obscenely rich. Doesn’t bother with social niceties.” She brightened. “Since we’re doing a real-life weekend, that means a movie marathon. I’m sure that’s in the fine print somewhere.”

Her enthusiasm diminished some of the dread eating a hole in his stomach. Maybe Trish wanted this fantasy state to last a little longer, too. “I draw the line at three movies. And there will be breaks in between.”

“Breaks for... Oh.” She grinned. “I think I can handle that. We’ll rent a few from my list. I’ll make you a horror fan yet—just watch.”

“You’re welcome to try.”

They collected their bags and hailed a cab back to his place. It wasn’t until they climbed out onto the sidewalk and headed into his building that he thought about how Trish might react to his suite. He punched the elevator button and turned to her, and sure enough, her blue eyes were wide. “Fancy place.”

He tried to see the lobby through her eyes. It was decorated in a modern chic style—whatever the fuck that meant—and was big on stainless steel and minimalism. He’d never put much thought into it before. It was a lobby, and he never spent more than a few seconds crossing it to get to the elevator. It wasn’t as if he lingered there. “If you say so.”

“Good Lord, you’re hilarious. I don’t have to say so, because it’s the truth.” She followed him into the elevator and they took the ride up to the top floor. Trish shot him another look. “You’re afraid of heights.”

“I don’t like heights,” he corrected.

“Sure. You don’t like heights. And you live in the top-floor penthouse suite?”

“The windows are reinforced,” he said stiffly. “And it’s not like I spend a lot of time looking out them.”

She nodded. “That doesn’t make any sense, but I’m going to pretend it does.” Trish wandered around his suite and, once again, he tried to see things from her point of view. Cameron hadn’t bothered to decorate the place himself. He’d hired a designer to outfit it after he bought it, and the man had done well enough. All the essentials were there—furniture, television, bed, various kitchen tools despite his rarely having time to cook. Everything was nice and neutral but, looking at it through the lens of what he knew of Trish, it seemed...boring.

She propped her hands on her hips. “You didn’t pick out a single thing in this place, did you?”

“How do you know that?”

“If you ever sat on that couch, you’d know it was wickedly uncomfortable and it isn’t nearly big enough.” She peered into the kitchen, hummed under her breath and turned back to him. “The only thing that really feels lived in, aside from the bedroom where you probably spend most of your time when you’re home, is the bookshelf.” She pointed at the inset bookshelf that he’d filled with first editions over the years. It was one of Cameron’s few extravagances, and he forced himself to limit how many he bought a year for the sole purpose of keeping it under control.

Trish drifted closer to the bookshelf. “This case is pretty impressive.”

“Some of those books are worth obscene amounts of money.” When she raised her eyebrows, he flushed. “I like to see them displayed like this. They make me happy.”

“You’re such a nerd. I like it.” She cupped the side of his face, gave an absent smile and wandered through the door to his bedroom. He followed her into the bathroom and laughed at her expression. “I did say the tub was large.”

“It’s humongous.” Trish fiddled with the faucets until they turned on, sending steaming water cascading out. She sat on the edge of the tub. “You just need a little color in this place, that’s all. Nothing too outrageous because it would drive you crazy. Just some soft tones to warm up the place and a few key pieces to bring it all together.” She frowned. “Maybe a plant or two. You have someone who cleans?”

“Once a week.” He didn’t spend enough time at home to truly make a mess, but he liked how fresh the place felt after his cleaning lady had been in.

“Often enough to keep certain plants alive as long as it’s not too fussy.” She nodded to herself. “Maybe a fern or something. I’ll have to think about it.”

Despite his determination to hold on to the promised reprieve, he couldn’t help speaking. “Have you ever thought of doing this?”

“We are doing this, Cameron.” She waggled her eyebrows at him.

He snorted. “Get your mind out of the gutter. I mean this—the interior designing thing. You’ve been in here five minutes and already have a better bead on things than the original guy I hired. You totally changed the feel of both the front office and the boardroom in a way I would have said was impossible before I saw it done. With the ability to work both in commercial spaces and private residences, you could make a killing.”

Something like interest flared in her blue eyes before she shook her head. “I have degrees in sales and design. That’s barely in the same realm.”

“Because it’s not part of your precious plan.” Bitterness soaked into his words, turning them ugly.

Trish crossed her arms over her chest. “There’s nothing wrong with having a plan. You wouldn’t have gotten to the place you’re in now without a plan.”

“Plans are nothing if you can’t adapt them, Trish. They’re not meant to be set in stone. Life changes things.” He could keep going, but every line of her body screamed a resistance to talking about this. “Take your bath. I’m going to order food.” He turned on his heel and stalked out of the bathroom.

When he’d realized he loved her, he’d truly thought there was some solution to the way she clung to plans as if they were the word of God. He still thought there were options moving forward...but she had to meet him halfway.

Not today.

Nothing would happen today.

He chafed at the restraint, hated the fact that things remained up in the air because of his own doing, but hell if Cameron saw a way around it. Lose her now, or lose her in a few days.

I know which one I choose.

* * *

The weekend wasn’t the relaxing oasis Trish had hoped. Tension strummed between her and Cameron, a cord growing tighter with each passing hour, filled with things neither of them said. The sex remained better than amazing, but after every time, she lay in Cameron’s arms, feeling like they were saying goodbye without words.

Worse, she didn’t know how to stop it.

He’d thrown out the interior design thing so casually, as if it was the easiest thing in the world to change her life course. She wasn’t flighty. She didn’t jump ship just because things got hard and the future didn’t look like she thought it would. Just because she was good at colors and getting a feel for a room didn’t mean that her dream of being in corporate fashion wasn’t valid.

You’re talking yourself in circles.

It was all she seemed capable of doing.

To distract herself while Cameron was in the shower, she checked her email on her phone. A small break of their rules for the weekend, but justified. Mostly. She scrolled absently, deleting junk mail to whittle down the number she’d have to handle on Monday, but stopped when she recognized a name. Mandy? Trish clicked on the email and nearly dropped her phone.

Hey girl,

So I’m sure you remember my brother, Tom. He’s working for Barton Fashion and they’re looking for a corporate buyer. I was a total brat and sent your résumé along without mentioning it, but they want an interview! Below is the contact information, so just give them a call and set it up.

Fingers crossed for you!

XOXO, Mandy

Trish read the forwarded email, her heart beating harder with every word. It wasn’t just any fashion retailer company. It was Barton Fashion. They were in her top three dream companies to work for when she’d first compiled her list back in college. Getting a job there...

Except she was already committed.

Damn it.

She closed her eyes, took several deep breaths and tried to focus. An interview wasn’t a job offer. Surely Cameron could do fine without her for a day once they scheduled it. It wouldn’t be the end of the world.

What if you get the job?

The thought was almost enough to make her laugh. What if she got the job? Her life plan hadn’t worked out once in the two years since she graduated college. There was no reason to think her cursed streak would end now, when she was finally starting to come to terms with the fact that maybe her plan wasn’t her be-all and end-all. She forwarded the email to Aaron as a courtesy and set her phone back down.

What would happen to her and Cameron if she got the job?

Barton Fashion was based out of San Francisco, which was about as far away from New York as someone could get and still remain in the continental United States. That was part of the attraction when she’d first put the company on her list. She’d wanted distance and enough time to figure out who she was without her family hovering. Without a safety net firmly in place should she fail. If she got the job, it would be a chance to see if she could actually stand on her own two feet without someone there ready to catch her.

Long-distance relationships happened, but she wasn’t sure if she and Cameron had a strong enough foundation to pull it off. Yes, she liked him. Yes, she kind of more than liked him. But without the amazing sex cementing them together? With work pulling them both in different directions?

She just didn’t know.

Trish picked up her phone again and emailed Barton Fashion to arrange an interview. There was no point in borrowing trouble.

She had enough as it was.