Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 98264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
He grinned. “Please don’t say my square peg and my dad’s round hole in the same sentence ever again.”
I barked a laugh. “Yeah, as soon as it came out of my mouth, that metaphor went sideways. But I meant it. Look at you. Smart, and kind, and funny.” I batted my eyelashes. “Not too hard on the eyes, if I do say so myself.”
He shook his head, but that grin stretched.
I crinkled my nose at him. “Your dad can keep the sandwich. I’d rather have you and your square peg.”
It was his turn to laugh, and it was deep and rich, the soundtrack of everything I’d missed over the last five years.
“Don’t speak too quickly. I pay all my own bills and the mountain of student loan debt out of principle, and I use his money for things that would piss him off but mean a lot to me.” He smiled tight and gave a piece of my hair a gentle tug. “Like, say, a donation to a brown bag lunch program for the students of Clovert or maybe an investigator to take down his nephew.”
I sucked in a sharp breath, and it had absolutely nothing to do with taking down Jonathan Caskey.
“You donate to my lunch program?”
He shrugged. “It’s a great program.”
“Cam,” I whispered when all further words failed me.
He slid his hand over and gave my knee a squeeze. “You have no idea how proud I am of everything you’ve done for those kids.”
A tear finally worked its way from my eye. “How?”
“A tip from an anonymous source.”
“Joe.” I laughed through tears.
“Or Joe.” He winked. “But, now, you’re going to let me pay for an investigator so, at the very least, we can get Jonathan off your back. Those kids need the sexy brown-bag lunch lady back ASAP.”
“Cam,” I repeated because what else was there to say?
He tipped his chin down and stared deep into my eyes. We were close—maybe not close enough to kiss, but with a few inches, I could have remedied that.
He moved his hand to my face and traced my jaw with his thumb. My breath hitched and a mixture of clean cotton and rich musk intoxicated my senses. Pure Camden Cole erotic.
“You gotta stop calling me Cam, babe,” he rasped, but he said it with his gaze trained on my mouth.
Maybe it was the moment.
Maybe it was the wine.
Maybe it was because he was so close after all those years of dreaming of him.
Whatever it was, I set aim on his mouth and threw caution to the wind.
Camden threw a proverbial bucket of ice water back.
“Nora, wait,” he said, hurling himself out of the way and spilling his wine all over the carpet. He shot to his feet and planted his hands on his hips, his breathing so ragged there was a solid chance he was hyperventilating.
And wasn’t that just a kick in the pants. The only man I’d ever loved, and he was on the verge of asphyxiation at the idea of kissing me. Outstanding.
“I’ll get a towel,” I announced, my face sliding through the spectrum of reds.
After lurching to my feet, I darted down the hall, passing not only the guest bathroom that had towels under the sink, but also the hall linen closet, which had several more. I was in the midst of an embarrassment overdose and my bedroom seemed like the safest retreat.
What the hell had I been thinking, trying to kiss him? Yes, he had been staring at my mouth and being generally sweet, but things had been off since he’d arrived in town. He’d rejected me almost every time I’d touch him. What part of that made me think this was ever going to end with our mouths fused together and, if I’d had anything to say about it, our clothes strewn across the floor?
I shut my bedroom door and cradled my head in my hands. What was wrong with me? He’d been nothing but good to me. Short of a steed, he’d been a white knight rushing to my aid every chance he got, and this was how I repaid him? By trying to seduce him when he so obviously wasn’t interested?
Sure, it had been five years, but I’d assumed our physical connection would still be there.
God knew I still felt it.
I now knew he did not.
Awesome. Fucking awesome.
There was a rap at my door. “Nora?”
Shit.
“Just a second!” I called, walking to the mirror to see if the staggering ache in my chest showed on my face. It did, but there was only so much I could hide, so I swiped under my eyes and smoothed down a few frizzies on the top of my head. Then I hurried to the bathroom and snagged a towel off the bar before running back out and swinging the door open, avoiding eye contact as best as possible. “Sorry, I just needed to grab a towel.”