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“I’m sorry, I’m afraid you have me at a loss. I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, this is my first year as director of the group home, but apparently every year Mr. Steele collects a Christmas list from each child and sees that every item on the list is purchased and delivered in time for Christmas.”
A laugh escapes my lips, which I quickly cover with a fake cough. “There must be some mistake.CameronSteele? Mr. Cameron Steele of RJ Conglomerates?”
There’s a rustling of papers. “Yes, it says right here…” She pauses as if she’s scanning her notes. “Oh, goodness. My apologies. As I said, this is my first year as director. I should have read the notes more carefully. I’m a little swamped trying to figure everything out, but it seems I’m to contact him directly.”
Now I know this is phony. Possibly a scam. Cameron Steele wouldn’t donate to a children’s home, and there’s absolutely no way he would ask the administrator of the group home to contact him directly about kids’ toy orders. Mr. Steele doesn’t even order his own lunch.
“Ms. Cole—” I begin sharply, but she cuts me off.
“I have his number here. 555–9736?”
That’s Mr. Steele’s number all right. It’s his personal cell phone number. Now I’m really baffled. “Let me get this straight. You mean to tell me that Cameron Steele takes children’s gift requests for the holidays?”
“Apparently. It says here he’s been doing it for the last ten years without fail. According to my predecessor’s notes, he’s to be contacted directly because he does all the shopping himself.”
Cameron Steele? Shop himself?
The same Cameron Steele who woke me at 1:30 a.m. last Tuesday with instructions to book him a massage because why be courteous enough to wait until morning when he can wake me from a dead sleep? The same Cameron Steel who called me on a Saturday to run all over town fulfilling lunch requests from his five golf buddies, each of whom ordered from a different restaurant? The Cameron Steele who then had me hand deliver said lunches to them on the fairway? That Cameron Steele?
As I conclude the baffling conversation with Tiana Cole, my brain is buzzing. I’m not sure how to feel about this new revelation. I’m confused and, if I’m being honest, my polar view of my boss just clouded a bit.
What a strange day it’s turned out to be. Four hours ago, I’d swear that I knew Cameron Steele almost better than he knows himself, but now I’m wondering if I know Ebenezer Grinch at all.
Chapter4
Cameron
What the hell was I thinking recruiting Ms. Miller to play my faux fiancée?
It was the only plan I could come up with off the cuff when she stood there staring at me with those big brown eyes and told me she was leaving me.
Leavingme!
I couldn’t just let her walk away. I needed a way to stall her, at least temporarily, while I worked on something more permanent.
I honestly expected her to turn down my ridiculous offer. To tell me she had a boyfriend or something. I guess she doesn’t. I’m not sure why not, only that I’m incredibly pleased by that fact.
“Can I get you something, sir?” Our flight attendant directs a flirtatious smile my way. “Anything at all?”
I shake my head. “I’m good.”
“Ma’am?” The question is for Ms. Miller, but the attendant’s eyes remain fixed on me. If I’m not mistaken, the woman has undone two of her uniform buttons since we boarded and she is ever so slowly leaning forward, giving me a view of her cleavage.
Her overly friendly attention is only serving to piss me off.
Women often behave this way to me, and I’ve encountered flight attendants like her more times than I can count on my fingers and toes. She sees a decent-looking guy wearing a Brioni suit and sporting a Rolex on his wrist and can’t help herself.
Ms. Miller is staring down at her lap, but I know she noticed. Her cheeks are pink and her lips are drawn tight as though she feels inadequate. Does she?
I don’t know why she would.
She’s attractive. I mean, under the oversized glasses, tight bun, and shapeless clothing.
Well, she’s certainly notunattractive. A little…uniquemaybe. It’s a trait that draws me to her. I love that she’s different from the other women I encounter on a regular basis. She’s crocheting right now. Crocheting!
“If there’sanything—anything at all you need, sir…” The flight attendant’s voice has dropped an octave, and when she adds a wink, the innuendo is obvious.
