Книга - A Cinderella Affair

A Cinderella Affair
A.C. Arthur


Clothing designer Camille Davis is sophisticated, ambitious, talented…and riddled with self-doubt–except when it comes to selling her father's home. No deal, no way. But Las Vegas real estate mogul Adam Donovan's negotiating skills are leaving Camille weak in the knees…and maybe, just maybe, willing to compromise?Adam, the youngest of the "Triple Threat" Donovan brothers and the sexiest bachelor in town, is drawn to Camille's seductive mix of vulnerability, sweetness and strength. As for her take-it- or-leave-it deal–he's in. He's willing to see how this gamble plays out, because his heart says there will be no losers in Vegas on this bet.









A Cinderella Affair

A.C. Arthur





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To fairy tales and happy endings.

I would be lost without them.




Contents


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Epilogue




Chapter 1


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.




Chapter 2


“So who is she?” Trenton Donovan asked gruffly.

Adam shifted on the couch. They were in his oldest brother, Linc’s office, on the top floor of the Gramercy Casino. Max had obviously called this little meeting and so was sitting in one of the deep leather chairs across the room while Trent stood near the window, his hands thrust into his pockets as he glared at Adam. Linc was sitting behind his desk being uncharacteristically quiet. But then, Adam sighed, he’d only been in here for about five minutes.

After being left standing like a fool in the middle of the restaurant Adam had ditched the idea of returning to his condo on the outskirts of Vegas and decided to get a room at the hotel. Of course he had no difficulty getting one and as he’d retrieved his key from the clerk at the front desk he’d also received a message to come to Linc’s office immediately.

So that’s why he was here. Not by any choice of his own because if he had his choice he’d have been in a nice comfy room with a big bed and a beautiful, if high-strung, woman.

With that thought he frowned oblivious to his audience’s extreme pleasure.

“Wow, she’s that bad, huh?” Max asked. “So where does the deal stand?”

Adam dragged a hand down his face and attempted a casual response. “She’s not that bad and the deal isn’t dead.” He had no idea why he’d said that. It was a blatant contradiction to what Camille had told him just before walking away.

“She changed her mind?”

“Who is she?”

Trent and Max spoke simultaneously and Linc chuckled. “Give him a second to get his bearings, guys. He looks like he’s had a pretty eventful dinner.”

Normally Adam and Max tended to side against the two older Donovans. Tonight it seemed that all three of them were against him. He didn’t miss the unspoken words that had the other Donovan men watching him carefully. “What’s up? She’s Randolph Davis’s daughter just like she said. And she’s not entirely sold on the idea of getting rid of her father’s house. But I plan to change her mind,” he said decisively.

It was Max’s turn to frown this time. “How do you plan to do that? She looked quite decided when she left the conference room. I don’t know why you even offered to put her up for the night. Meeting with her again tomorrow is most likely not going to change anything.”

Adam swore and the three pair of eyes that were already watching him closely moved in on him.

“We’re not meeting with her tomorrow?” Max asked.

“Yes. We are.” Adam stood. He hadn’t gotten around to setting a time and place for tomorrow because he’d been so into the simple conversation he and Camille were having. She’d been the one to bring up business and she’d been the one to end their evening. He hadn’t been given much of an opportunity to say anything and at this moment that was really pissing him off.

“Camille Davis. Her name sounds familiar,” Linc said as he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin.

“You may have heard of her company, CK Davis Designs,” Adam said absently. He went to the small bar on the other side of the office and fixed himself a drink. His mind whirled with all the things he hadn’t had a chance to say to Camille. He’d already decided he was going to say his piece, and since he was putting her up in this hotel for the night, she was going to go through with their meeting tomorrow. She wouldn’t be happy to hear that but he didn’t rightfully care. This was business. He should never have let the personal interfere, no matter how desirable and totally kissable she appeared.

“She’s the C.K. Davis? That’s a multi-million-dollar company. Her stocks are through the roof and the winter line she’s debuting in a couple of weeks is reputed to be her best yet. She’s a definite powerhouse in the fashion industry.” Max had stood and was now pacing the floor. “She’ll never sell that house. She doesn’t need the money so there’s no reason for her to sell. At least the stepmother is greedy so we have something to work with there, but the daughter is going to be trouble.”

“Calm down, Max.” Adam took a long swallow of his brandy. “I’m going to close this deal.”

“If she’s a designer and she’s rich I could probably dig up some dirt on her. That’ll make her cooperate.”

Adam tossed Trent a searing look. “Don’t you dare! Your secret security skills are not required in this instance.” Trent always wanted to investigate somebody. He was an ex-Navy Seal and therefore tended to look at every situation as if it were a military deployment.

Trent shrugged. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Investigating someone’s personal life is not helping,” Adam argued.

“Funny, you didn’t always feel that way,” Linc added.

Adam sighed. “That was different. You were sleeping with Jade and she was staying in our parents’ house. We had a right to know everything about her.”

Linc stood. “No. I had a right to know everything about her, not you.”

Max interrupted. “For crying out loud, you and Jade are happily married. Can we please try to focus on the matter at hand?”

Adam turned to Max. “We could focus on our business matters if you hadn’t brought them into the mix. You know how they are.”

“Hey, we’re family,” Linc objected. “Whether or not we’re all in the same business doesn’t matter. If one needs help that’s what the rest of us are here for.”

“But I don’t need any help,” Adam insisted.

Linc crossed the room and placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “If you’re going to try and convince a woman to change her mind you’re going to need all the help you can get.”

“I usually don’t have any problems where women are concerned,” Adam said absently.

Linc grinned. “Then that tells me that this is an unusual woman. In which case you might need more than our help.”



Adam didn’t need anything but to see Camille Davis one more time.

Not in that way, he convinced himself.

He only wanted to tell her about the meeting tomorrow. At least that was the reason he’d taken the elevator to the tenth floor instead of the fifteenth where his room was.

He knocked on the door determined to get this over with as quickly as possible. And then she answered.

“Hello.”

Her voice seemed small now that they were face to face. In the restaurant there had been plenty of background noise so he’d had no problem hearing her. She still wore the slacks and blouse she had on earlier but she’d taken off the jacket. The chocolaty brown skin of her bare arms showed and he had to take a deep breath before speaking.

“Hi.” To his own ears his voice didn’t sound as confident as he would have liked so he looked over her shoulders for a momentary reprieve. “If you’re not busy I need to speak with you for a moment.”

Camille wasn’t busy. In fact, she was just enjoying a minor pity party before he’d knocked. The moment she’d closed that door behind her an hour earlier she’d been hit with the biggest wave of disappointment she’d ever felt. She’d acted rude and selfishly to Adam Donovan, a man who had been nothing but nice to her since she’d crashed his meeting.

She’d plopped down onto the couch, unable to enjoy the luxurious room he’d secured for her because she couldn’t get past the ill feelings towards his business deal and all that it stood for. He wanted to buy her father’s house, to take away the last memory she’d ever have of what being loved felt like.

That was the reason she did not want to sell the house but she couldn’t tell Adam Donovan that. He’d never understand. He had a great family who apparently loved him very much. He couldn’t possibly relate to her holding on to a piece of property as a way of staying connected to her father.

She’d already resigned herself to apologizing to him but thought she would at least have until tomorrow morning when she’d managed to secure herself a new outfit and a good night’s rest first. But he was here so there was no better time like the present.

“No. I’m not busy at all. Come on in.” Stepping to the side she allowed him entrance and inhaled the scent of his cologne as he walked by. With an inward groan she berated herself for once more entertaining the silly notion that she could be attracted to a man like him.

“We didn’t get a chance to talk about what time would be good for you to meet tomorrow,” Adam began as soon as he was in the sitting area of her room.

“I know,” she started to say then felt herself fidgeting and pushed her hands behind her back so he wouldn’t glimpse her nervousness. “First, I should apologize for the way I left earlier. It was rude and unprofessional.”

Adam looked shocked for a moment, then gave a half smile. “It’s okay. I’ve been told I can be a bit pushy at times. I apologize if I offended you.”

“Oh, no.” Camille shook her head quickly. “You didn’t offend me. I mean, I shouldn’t have been offended by your questions. They were harmless. I just have a tendency to overreact sometimes.”

“Really? So were you overreacting to having dinner with me or to the business we were discussing?”

With a small jerk of her arms Camille demanded her hands be still. She squared her shoulders and was determined to look him straight in the eye and answer him. Adam Donovan did not make her nervous. There was no need for her to be. He was here on business. But here was in a hotel room where just a few feet away was a huge elegantly adorned bed.

“I overreacted to your questions. At any rate, it’s over now. What time do you want to meet?” Before he could answer she put a hand up to stop him. “Keep in mind that I am only agreeing to this meeting because it was too late for me to get a flight back to L.A. and that was a part of our bargain. I don’t make a habit of going back on my word. It doesn’t mean that I’ve changed my mind about the sale.”

He took a step closer to her and Camille felt her lungs struggling to take in air. Behind her back her hands clutched again.

“You still haven’t heard my plans for the house, Camille.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, her voice shaky and unfamiliar. He was only a couple of inches away now and his scent drifted around her, cloaking her until she felt like she was securely surrounded. He was looking at her strangely, his eyes having darkened a bit since when he’d first arrived.

She took a step back.

“I’ve been known to be very persuasive,” he said in a deep, sexy voice.

“I can’t be persuaded,” she breathed and took another step back.

He reached out then and grabbed her shoulders. “Never move backwards,” he warned. “You’ll eventually be cornered.”

And that she was. Behind her was the couch; one more step back and she would have fallen down onto it and as close as Adam was he would have fallen down right on top of her. A position she had no intention of them being in.

She was gorgeous, in a quiet, sneak-up-and-bite you kind of way. Her chin was strong, her body singing every love song in the book to any man lucky enough to be around her. Her lips were small but plump and very kissable. But it was her eyes that held him captive. With their exotic shape and mystical color Adam couldn’t help but be swept away. So much so that he’d forgotten that this was supposed to be business and was touching her in a very personal way. She was small, almost a foot shorter than him. He could have easily picked her up and dropped her in the center of that bed he’d spied upon entering. But he found that pushing her to her limits was much more enjoyable.

He made her nervous; he could tell by the way her eyes watched him closely and her body shifted restlessly. He could ease that restlessness. He could nip the nervousness in the bud if she’d let him kiss her. There was a keen attraction sizzling between them and Adam was willing to bet she was feeling it, too. He wondered what would happen if he pushed a little more.

“What if we started with something a little simpler than the discussion about the house,” he suggested, moving his hands up and down her bare arms, loving the feel of her smooth skin against his.

“What do you mean?” she stammered.

“I mean, what if we talked about something else. Something a little less serious.” She hadn’t pulled away from him, which was a good sign, but he suspected that would be kind of hard for her to do since her legs were blocked by both him and the couch.

“Adam.” Her hands came up to his chest in a small form of protest.

Right through his shirt the heat from her touch burned him until he wanted to rip away the material that posed as a barrier to feel her skin to skin.

She pushed slightly and Adam had to take a deep, steadying breath. Never before had he been this turned on by a woman and never before had his desire interfered with his business. So he counted to three then forcefully pulled his hands away from her. It took another moment or two before he could step away, but he did.

“There is nothing for us to discuss except for the house,” she said.

Adam turned away from her then because to keep staring at her only fueled this growing need in the pit of his stomach. This fierce desire to have her, totally.

“I’m sure you realize how untrue that statement is, Camille,” he said as he turned back to face her.

“No. I mean, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She was fidgeting again, a trait he found strangely endearing. Normally he liked decisive, fun and easygoing women who were down for a good time. He made it a point to stay away from emotionally driven women with too many issues for him to count. So why was he so drawn to her? He’d known her less than twenty-four hours and yet he knew without a doubt that Camille Davis had issues. Funny thing was, he wanted to know what those issues were and he wanted to fix them.

He had to clench his teeth at that one because he definitely did not understand what was going on. What he did know was that two grown adults were standing in this room and that they were attracted to each other. He wasn’t about skirting around any issues like that, business or pleasure. “I’m talking about this thing between us. It’s obvious that we’re attracted to each other. So whether or not we go into business together we’ll still have to deal with that.”

Slowly she brought her hands from behind her back and folded her arms over her chest. If she had any idea how hard that one act made him she would never do it again. Adam didn’t move a muscle.

“There is nothing between us but my father’s house. Anything else is purely your imagination.”

He chuckled. “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you? It makes you feel safer if you convince yourself that there is nothing else between us. What I don’t understand is why you need to feel safe. Do I frighten you, Camille?”

Her chin instantly went up, her eyes glaring at him as her anger grew. Adam almost smiled. She had some feistiness in her and some passion, he’d seen that in her eyes when he was close to her. There was a lot more to Camille Davis than met the eye.

“You do not frighten me. That’s absurd. This entire conversation is absurd.” She huffed. “The only reason you and I are even in the same room speaking to one another is because you want something that I have.”

That was a vast understatement, Adam thought with amusement.

She was pacing back and forth now. “I mean, I live in L.A. and you live in Vegas, Sin City. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,” she ranted. “We are not the same types of people so it’s totally insane to think that we’d be attracted to each other.”

Adam watched her agile movements. He watched every curve of her body move in sync as she spoke. Her arms rotated between being folded at her chest to swaying fitfully at her waist. It was at those times that he glimpsed her perfectly round bottom and those high, enticing breasts. She talked as if she had a lot of things going through her mind at once and she was having trouble keeping them all straight. He sensed it was because she was in fact nervous and unwilling to admit to what he already knew.

She was just as amazed by this instant attraction as he was. Only he was used to physical awareness and sexual tension. He knew just how to deal with them both and boasted a gold medal in doing so. However, he had a sneaky suspicion Camille would not be impressed by that knowledge.

He had no choice but to touch her again; if not she would have worn a hole in the floor. Besides, he had no problem putting his hands on Camille and hoped to do it more often. But for right now he wanted to calm her down. She was working herself into a fine fit and he needed to nip it in the bud. He caught her waist on another one of her trips past him and pulled her back against his chest. Keeping one arm around her waist he braced the other around her arms to keep them still.

“Camille.” He breathed her name into her hair and struggled to keep from doing more. “I am a man. And you are a woman. Everything else is inconsequential.”

Camille’s heart beat erratically. She’d been so surprised when he grabbed her that she’d clamped her mouth shut, almost biting off her own tongue. He was too close and he was holding her and she couldn’t breathe. But then she could breathe, his scent, that smell that both teased and tortured her.

She felt a little faint and wondered what she’d eaten today besides the partial salad at dinner. She was light-headed because she hadn’t eaten three meals like she was supposed to. That’s probably why she was going off the deep end in front of this virtual stranger.

“Dammit, you’re shaking,” Adam said as he spun her around to face him. “What’s wrong with you? And don’t tell me nothing because I’m not going to believe it.”

He was speaking loudly now. That deep voice that she’d initially thought was sexy was now too loud and causing a pounding in her head. “Stop,” she said slowly. “Please let me go.”

“No. I’m not going to let you go until you tell me what’s wrong.”

She shook her head. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Maybe you should just leave. We’ll talk tomorrow.” She tried to pull away from him but she was really shaky and the next thing she knew he was scooping her up into his arms and carrying her to the couch.

He set her down gently and Camille closed her eyes in supreme embarrassment. Her insides were on fire and she felt the sweat beginning to prick her forehead. She thought she had these episodes under control. She hadn’t been to therapy in two months because she’d felt okay with herself. Why was this happening now, in front of him?

“Baby, what can I do? Do you want me to call a doctor or something? Talk to me, Camille.”

She sighed heavily. “I don’t need a doctor.”

“Okay. Then tell me what you need. Whatever it is I’ll get it for you.”

Camille opened her eyes and wanted desperately to tell him what it was she secretly longed for. She wanted to tell somebody, anybody who would listen to a young girl’s foolish dream. She’d had that dream for so long it had become a part of her life. And while she knew it would never come true, it was comforting just to have it.

Adam Donovan and his warm brown eyes, his easy smile and even easier charm had made her think of that dream again. He’d made her think of all that she wanted and would never have.

“I just need to be alone, that’s all.” She turned away from him then, burying her face in the back of the couch, hoping like hell he’d think she was a waste of time and leave her there.

She wasn’t prepared for the gentle touch to her cheek or the soft whisper coming from him. “I won’t leave you like this. Even if you don’t tell me what’s wrong I’m going to stay until you’re feeling better.”

Camille turned back slowly to find his face only inches from hers. He smiled and she wanted to cry at his sweetness. Instead she chuckled nervously. “You must think I’m some type of lunatic. First, I walk out on you in the restaurant and now this. I’m such a mess.”

Adam laughed with her but continued to stroke her cheek with his fingers. “You’re definitely not an ordinary date. But I’ve seen stranger things happen.”

“I don’t date often,” she blurted out, then watched as his eyes grew in surprise.

“Really? I would have guessed you had a string of boyfriends back in L.A.”

She didn’t know why she’d admitted that to him but couldn’t take the words back so instead she answered, “No boyfriends.”

“Since how long?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I had a date for my last showing, which was earlier this year. But that was only the one night. I didn’t see him again afterwards.”

He looked at her quizzically. “Have you ever had a real boyfriend?”

Feeling a little steadier, Camille struggled to sit up. Adam accommodated her by moving back and lifting her legs onto his lap as he sat down. “I’m not a puritan,” she said dismally. “I just don’t have a lot of free time.”

“That didn’t answer my question,” he said as he slipped off her shoes and began rubbing her feet.

Camille thought to protest then figured she would have to be out of her mind to stop sensations this good. “I had a boyfriend in college.”

“College? That long ago, huh?”

“I told you I don’t have a lot of time. I’m trying to get my company off the ground.”

“Your company is doing great. I told you I had a few suits and my mother is a huge fan. My brothers were even talking about you earlier tonight.”

His hands moved up to her calves and Camille almost moaned. “Your brothers? Why would your brothers be talking about me?”

“My family and I are very close. So close that sometimes I can’t have a thought without them knowing it.”

He looked a little stressed by this admission. “You sound as if that bothers you.”

“Not really.” He shrugged. “Well, sometimes I guess it does.”

They grew silent and then his hands rested on her thighs. “Are you ready to tell me what happened now?”

Camille sighed. Her father used to do the same thing. He’d rock her and talk to her about nonsense and then he’d approach the problem. Why did that endear Adam Donovan to her more? “I have panic attacks sometimes. I get really worked up and then I have a meltdown. But I’m okay now.”

Adam stared at her seriously. “You’re not all right. You haven’t had the meltdown yet.”

Camille smiled then broke out into laughter as she watched his eyes lighten and his lips spread into a wide grin. “I guess you’re right but that’ll have to wait until I’m alone. I absolutely refuse to melt down in front of a stranger.”

“Hey, I’m no stranger. I’ve fed you and massaged your feet. That has to make me more along the lines of a friend.”

Camille grew silent. “I don’t need a friend.”

Adam cupped her chin in his palm. “But you do need something, Camille. If you stop denying it maybe you’ll find it soon.”



Camille sighed contentedly and rolled over, snuggling into the soft sheets. Her body felt rested, her mind clear as she dropped an arm over her forehead. Her internal body clock said it was time to get up so she looked to the nightstand to gauge the time. She was a habitual early riser, sometimes too early. Today, she vowed if it were one of those too-early mornings she was going to lie in this comfortable bed a little longer.

It was nine-thirty. Camille shot straight up in the bed in horror and looked at the clock again. Surely she wasn’t seeing clearly. She never slept this late. But it was nine-thirty—in fact it was now nine thirty-three. Pushing back the sheets she scrambled off the bed and was about to make her way into the bathroom when she realized she wasn’t at home.

The peach curtains and emerald-green carpet was a dead giveaway. She was a fan of more subtle colors and so her bedroom was decorated in shades of gray and navy. For a minute her heart beat rampantly, then memories of yesterday came flooding back and she calmed. She was in Las Vegas. She’d come here to stop Moreen from selling her father’s home. And she’d seen her dream guy again.

She fell back on the bed remembering the way he looked in that suit, like a male model posing in a boardroom. He was gorgeous. Hell, he was beyond gorgeous, but then she’d known that the first night they’d bumped into each other. She’d also known he was not on her menu. That’s why she had resigned herself to only dreaming about him.

But fate seemed to have another plan. Adam Donovan was no longer only in her dreams. He was now officially a thorn in her side. He should be her enemy, considering he wanted to buy her father’s house and she refused to sell it. She should probably despise him as much as she despised Moreen. But she didn’t.

In fact, as she remembered him coming to her room last night and consoling her, she was dangerously close to liking him, a lot.

Camille groaned as memories of her falling apart in front of him rushed to the surface. He probably should have been disgusted by that display, but instead he’d stayed with her. What surprised her most about that little exchange was that he actually had been successful in calming her. Nobody had ever been able to calm her through an attack that way except her father. His gentle touch remained as her cheek tingled. Then with a start she sat up and looked down at herself. With a relieved sigh she noticed that she still wore her slacks and blouse from yesterday. So nothing had happened between her and Adam. At least nothing that she would be forever embarrassed about. The episode was small fries compared to what she’d been thinking in the last few minutes.

Now aware of her surroundings and the reason for her being there she did get up with the intention of going to the phone to find out how early the shops on the first floor opened. She hadn’t planned on staying in Vegas so she hadn’t brought so much as an overnight bag with her. She paused at the note placed on top of the phone.

Meeting’s at noon. A car will be downstairs to pick you up. Patrice, in the gift shop downstairs has been instructed to take care of whatever you need. She assured me that she had a huge selection of CK Davis Designs in stock.

Adam

Camille had to smile at that last sentence. She really did want Adam Donovan to be her enemy. It would make her decision not to sell her father’s house a lot easier. But Adam had been nothing but nice to her, probably too nice.

Her cell phone chimed as Camille held the note in her hand, contemplating her feelings. She still held the slip of paper as she moved to her purse and retrieved the phone.

“Camille Davis.”

“Where are you? I’ve been calling your apartment all night. I wanted to find out how things went with Moreen,” Dana said in one breath. For years Camille had wondered how a person could talk so fast without being winded.

Moving to the couch Camille plopped down and laid her head back. “I’m still in Vegas.”

“What? Why? Did she kidnap you?”

Camille chuckled. “You are so dramatic. No, she didn’t kidnap me. I interrupted the meeting before anything could be signed but then one of the buyers asked me to dinner to discuss the deal further.”

“He asked you to dinner?”

Camille wondered why Dana assumed the buyer was a man and could hear the shift in her friend’s tone.

“Was he cute?” Dana asked with growing excitement.

Camille couldn’t resist a smile. “Yes, he’s cute. But that’s not why I went to dinner with him.”

“If he was cute then that should have been the only reason you went with him. You already know you don’t want to sell the house. Why even entertain his offer?”

Camille was asking herself the same question. And the only answer she could come up with was that she wanted a chance to be with Adam Donovan again. “As it turns out I knew him.”

“Really? Who is he?”

Camille groaned inwardly, knowing that the moment she released this tidbit of information Dana was going to flip her lid. “Remember the guy we saw in the casino, the one you wanted me to do?”

“Stop playing! Girl, that fine-ass man is the one trying to buy your property?” Dana practically squealed. “I’d sell him something all right.”

“I just bet you would. If you weren’t happily married, that is. Speaking of which, is Carl back from Phoenix?”

“Yeah, he got back last night. But I don’t want to talk about that. I want to hear about the dinner you had with that hunk.”

“The hunk’s name is Adam Donovan,” Camille said, trying to hide a smile. Although she was only on the phone with Dana she was smiling so hard it was bound to be heard in her voice. “And he seems really nice. It’s a shame I have to kill his deal. But he’s not starving for money so I guess he’ll be okay.”

“Maybe you should prolong your decision, spend a few more days in Vegas getting to know Adam and…” Dana’s voice trailed off.

Camille quickly picked up her drift. “Not happening. I’m meeting with him and his partner at noon. I guess Moreen will be there, too. At any rate, I’m going to put an end to this deal once and for all. I should be back in L.A. tonight.”

“What you should do is cancel that meeting, have a little fun with Adam, then kill the deal and come home.”

“That’s cruel.”

Dana chuckled. “That’s life. Men do it all the time, Camille. Stop being so uptight. You know that guy was feeling you when we were at the bar that night and I’m sure he’s more than happy to have run into you again. Get yourself a little somethin’ somethin’ and then go back to business. You deserve it.”

“And what about him? Does he deserve a one-night stand?” Not that Camille was even considering this idea.

“Like I said, men do it all the time. I’m sure he’s done it a few times, as well. And I’m not saying it has to be just a one-night stand. I know how you are about sex and commitment. I’m just saying you should explore your options with this guy and see where things might lead.”

Camille sighed. “They might lead to him cursing me out since he paid for my hotel stay and is apparently footing the bill for my wardrobe for the day since I didn’t plan on staying here. I’m sure he could say it was just business and write it off as that but it’s going to be crappy that I’m not going through with his deal after all this.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that, Camille. Why won’t you sell the house? You have no plans on living there. Is it just to get back at Moreen?”

“No!” Camille answered quickly. “I don’t know,” she sighed. “It just seems like it’s too soon to let it go. To let him go.”

“But he is gone, Camille. Keeping that house isn’t going to bring him back.”

“I know,” she said sadly. Her stomach growled and Camille instantly thought of the meager dinner she’d had and the breakfast she craved. Scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes and orange juice sounded divine. Then she let the hand with the note from Adam fall to her stomach and felt the cushiony softness. Yogurt and fruit would have to suffice.

“I’d better get ready for the meeting. I’ll call you later with my flight info so you can pick me up,” she told Dana.

“Okay, but remember what I said, Camille. Take a chance for once, give yourself an early Christmas gift.”

Camille disconnected with Dana with every intention of ignoring her friend’s advice.



She’d tried on a dozen or so business suits and an equal amount of dresses and wasn’t totally satisfied with any of them. While the boutique was very well stocked and carried a lot of her designs, Camille just couldn’t seem to find the right outfit. Everything made her look fat. A part of her knew it was just the complex she’d had all her life and that the size twelve outfits didn’t look that bad on her, but then another part remembered that Moreen would be at that meeting.

Moreen would be dressed in something chic and expensive and she’d look gorgeous and skinny with her svelte size-six body. Today, of all days, Camille needed to be one hundred percent. She needed to feel like she owned the world along with half her father’s house. Moreen would be angry and that would make her sharper, more vindictive and nastier than usual. Max Donovan would no doubt be on point after having spoken to his company lawyers and real estate appraisers again. And then there was Adam.

Adam would be handsome and debonair and charming. All the things he’d been last night and then some. Yeah, she definitely had to be ready for this meeting. And a glance at her watch told her if she didn’t pick an outfit and hustle upstairs to her room she’d start off by being late, which wasn’t a good thing.

An hour later and twenty minutes ahead of schedule Camille stepped out of the Gramercy to a seasonably warm October day. She’d settled on the charcoal gray silk suit with the knee-length flared skirt and fitted jacket that covered her too-round bottom. Sassy Milano pumps gave her height, which ultimately made her appear slimmer, while the excellent cut of the jacket concealed any bulging at her waist and accented her generous bosom. She felt professional, yet attractive and sure of her appearance for a change.

One of her company’s mottos was to do just that. To provide clothes that appealed to every woman of all sizes and classes, to make each woman feel sexy and self-assured. The weird thing was that for the majority of her life, Camille hadn’t felt any of those things herself. It had been only in the last five years that she’d begun to gain some sense of confidence. And while it wasn’t much, she had learned to take her victories in small doses.

Besides, this meeting would be over quickly and then she’d be on her way back to L.A. She had a show to do in two weeks. This little trip was putting her behind schedule and that too was beginning to worry her. There were so many things that still needed to be done. Meetings with the technicians at the theater where the fashion show was being held, last minute alterations and changes to the lineup, model contracts and the reception for three hundred of L.A.’s high-class society and the press. She could not afford these two days away from her office, yet it was necessary.

They arrived at the building before Camille had her game plan in order. On the ride over, after she’d pushed aside CK Davis Designs business, she’d begun to think about why she was here in Vegas. Her father’s house. The house where she’d grown up, where she’d had the best times with her father. Now her father was gone and if she didn’t stop it, his house would be, too. How did she really feel about that? Extremely sad, she admitted. Tears stung her eyes and she tried to take deep breaths to hold them at bay.

She stepped onto the elevator and let her head fall back against the wall. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry,” she chanted over and over until she thought she had herself under control.



The meeting was starting in ten minutes and she still hadn’t arrived. Adam had tried not to appear nervous. He wasn’t nervous. She was just a woman, just a client actually. And after today, after she signed over her share in the house, she wouldn’t even be that. He could stand here and try to convince himself that this would be the end of their involvement but that would be stupid and a waste of time. And if there was one thing Adam Donovan did not believe in doing it was wasting time.

Last night she’d appealed to him on a level he hadn’t even known existed in his mind. She’d needed him in a way he’d never been needed before. She was having some type of breakdown and he’d been there for her. He hadn’t a clue what he was doing at the time, however. All he knew was that she was in trouble and he was determined to help her. Afterwards she’d seemed to open up a little more. She laughed and she talked—not too much about herself—but she’d seemed very interested in his childhood and his family life. They’d talked for a while until she just about collapsed from exhaustion. He’d watched her sleep for a few minutes there on the couch with her legs in his lap, her head cradled by her arm resting on the back of the chair.

She looked stressed even in her sleep. He’d brushed his hand over her forehead, trying to smooth away the worry lines there but had been unsuccessful. Whatever it was that bothered her so deeply attacked her even in sleep.

This morning he’d awakened with a tense body and a mind still full of Camille Davis. He wanted to call her, to offer to have breakfast with her. Anything, because he’d felt desperate to see her. But then Max had called wanting to meet with him alone before their meeting with the Davis women.

He’d been in this building for four hours already and was itching to see Camille, to at least talk to her. After finally finding a reasonable excuse to leave Max’s office Adam had headed for the elevators. He was pacing in front of the doors, his hands in both pockets of his pants as he waited for the elevator to arrive. His shoes clicked against the marble floor and he wondered what was taking Camille so long. It was his plan to ride downstairs, to look for Virgil and his car and then to call the hotel if need be.

He heard the ding signaling that the elevator was there and stopped directly in front of it. The doors opened and his heart gave a staggered beat.

Camille stood against the wall, her eyes closed tightly, her hands gripping the handrail until her knuckles turned white. Of course he rushed to her side and of course he touched her, it would have taken an army of men to prevent him from doing otherwise.

His hands covered hers as he tried to pull them off the rails. “What is it?” he whispered.

Camille’s eyes shot open and searched his face for recognition. Adam felt the moment she realized who he was. It was a flash of heat, pooled in the center of her pupils. Then the heat melted away to be replaced by surprise and then indignation. “I am fine. Let me go,” she said in a voice that was way too shaky for his liking.

“You’re shaking. Who upset you?” She smelled delicious and looked fantastic. He’d noticed her stylish beauty that first night and then yesterday he’d watched her natural feminism blossom in front of him. Today, she was sophisticated, alluring.

“I am fi—”

“Don’t lie to me, Camille,” he interrupted. He captured her gaze and held it, letting her know he was serious and that her claims of being okay were not fooling him. “Tell me what’s wrong?” he said in a calmer tone even though his body shook with anger that he couldn’t quite place.

“I was just thinking of something that made me sad. That’s all. I am really fine now.” She tried to move around him when the elevator doors closed. “Great,” she said in an exasperated tone as she pushed the button to try and open them again.

It was too late; the elevator was already moving again. She sighed and rested her forehead on the doors.

Adam walked up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Were you thinking of your father?”

She didn’t answer but he felt her shoulders tense.

“It’s okay to be sad about losing him, Camille. If something happened to my father I’d be crushed. You can cry, it doesn’t make you weak.”

“Crying won’t bring him back,” she said softly.

“No,” he said stroking her arms. “It won’t. But sometimes a good cry is just what a body needs to rejuvenate itself and move on.”

She inhaled and exhaled deeply. “I am not going to cry. I just want to get this meeting over with so I can go home.”

Adam reached around her and pushed the number to the floor the meeting was on. “Then we will make it quick.”

They stood in the quiet for a second or so, then Adam took a deep breath himself, filling his body with her scent as he did. For a minute he was dizzy with wanting her. Then he shook his head to clear those thoughts. “What do you want to do about the house, Camille? Whatever you want, I’ll respect.”

Camille sighed. Her traitorous body had been on fire since the moment he’d stepped onto this elevator. She’d wanted to fall into his arms when she’d opened her eyes and saw him looking down at her. He was so close, his body offering a shield of protection she had always longed for. But then she remembered who he was and what he wanted and who she was and what she wanted. She did not need a protector and she did not want Adam Donovan feeling as if she were indebted to him in any way.

But then he’d said something that once again had changed her thoughts where he was concerned. She’d come here today with the express intention of ending this deal. She would keep her father’s house and buy Moreen’s share if need be. She would not sell to this man who had already admitted to fixing up properties and selling them for profit. She did not want her father’s house in someone else’s hands. But, as Dana and Moreen had reminded her, she had no intentions of living in it herself. While she wanted the memory to exist in her mind, she in no way thought she could handle facing it on a daily basis.

So where did that leave her? What did she want to do with the house?

He would respect her wishes. What kind of businessman said that? And did he mean it?

She turned slowly until she was facing him. He was still very close, so much so that his silky gray tie was at direct eye level with her. She reached out and touched it because she had always loved a good tie. Her father wore expensive ties of the most original colors. Adam did not move and she was careful to keep her fingers from actually grazing his chest. She looked up into his eyes then and saw something there she hadn’t wanted to accept.

Adam Donovan had caring eyes to go along with this compassion that he’d shown her on two occasions now. He was dangerously handsome with his close cut curly black hair and cleft chin. His body was broad, like most of the male models she hired and yet he did not appear to be ruled by his good looks. That was a rarity in her world. In the world of fashion people who looked like Adam knew they were the bomb and commanded healthy paychecks because of it. Adam already had a boatload of money and he looked too good to be true. But that wasn’t any of her business.

She pulled her hands away from him and asked. “What will you do with the house if I sell it to you? I mean, specifically, what will you do to it?”

“A complete renovation beginning with the main hall and extending all the way out to the landscape. It’s a great piece of land but it isn’t being displayed to its best advantage. I have several designers that I work with exclusively but I’m thinking of one in particular who is a master with Asian décor.”

Camille studied him. “The high ceilings,” she said slowly. “That is what I like best about the house. When I was a little girl I used to pretend it was my castle.”

He touched her chin then her cheek and she struggled not to lean into him. “The princess,” he whispered.

He looked at her as if she were the only person in the world and she liked it. She wondered what he saw, if it were the fat girl who couldn’t get enough of her father’s attention or the businesswoman who spent her time dressing other females because she was so ashamed of her own body. Those were her therapist’s words. Questions she’d asked Camille. Questions Camille still could not answer.

“I was never a princess,” she responded. “More along the lines of Cinderella, I would say.”

“Cinderella was a princess, a beautiful one who was rescued by the dashing prince at the ball.”

He still touched her face and this time Camille did lean her head into his touch. Just for a moment she’d allow herself the fantasy.

Then the elevator dinged and the doors opened again. She pulled away from him then and stepped off. She heard him behind her and turned back to face him.

“I won’t sell you the house.”




Chapter 3


Adam tried not to react to her words. They bothered him, there was no denying that, but he doubted she needed to hear that. Instead he nodded in concession, then took her arm and led her towards the conference room.

“Where are we going?” she asked when he’d all but dragged her several steps.

“To the meeting. Once we’re all gathered you can tell everyone what you’ve decided.” And he could watch Max die a slow death when she did. This was a multimillion-dollar deal for Donovan Investments and a huge blow to their ego if it did not go through.

“But I want to tell you first.” She slowed down as they approached the door.

Adam clenched his teeth to keep from speaking too harshly to her. He really couldn’t understand why she was keeping the house if she had no intention of ever using it again. If it were just because she wanted a piece of her father then she was doing him a grave disservice, as well. That house and that property deserved to be more than a shrine. “You’ve already told me,” he grumbled.

“No.” She stopped, pulling her arm out of his grip. “I haven’t told you all of it.”

Adam took a deep breath and faced her. “You don’t want to sell the house. I have no choice but to accept that.” He hadn’t wanted to look at her, hadn’t wanted that connection with her again but found his gaze resting on those slanted eyes of hers and knew he was going to give in. “Tell me the rest, Camille.”





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