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“Did you really ask Kate to fire people?” Her voice sounded overly loud in the persistent silence.
She thought I was an ogre. Great.
“Yes,” I groaned. “Wardrobe isn’t only about appearances. There is no excuse for them leaving you to the ravages of the sun so they could flash a bit of cleavage for the camera.” I regretted the word cleavage the moment it passed my lips. At the mention of her breasts, my eyes dipped low, looking for a hint of the glorious bounty under her shirt. I was a weak man and couldn’t stop myself.
“Well, uh, thank you, I think.” She tugged the sides of her blouse up toward her throat, and I wanted to die.
“You’re welcome.” I stifled the urge to pound my forehead with my palm.
The AC clicked off, and a tomb-like silence settled around us.
“Will thirty-five hundred cover it?” Her calm and business-like voice echoed off the gallery’s white walls and cut into me afresh. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I took a few yoga-style calming breaths.
“I don’t want your money.”
Looking directly at her, I let every conflicted feeling ooze out of my pores. What I wanted had to be as obvious as a blinking neon sign in two-thousand-point font. Her eyes raced over my face, seeing all I was unwilling to say. And her lost expression told me all she was unwilling to give.
I was absolutely fucked.
“What do you want?” Her voice shook as she asked the dangerous question.
You! I want you!
Sanity and pride caught the words before they shot from my lips. Stupid heart asking for what it shouldn’t want.
“Blue Star Ranch.” Ah, the irony.
I’d survived since Saturday by obsessing over the ranch. Lost in the piles of paperwork that Atley had given me. Financial statements. Land surveys. Horse and cattle pedigrees. I learned all I could about the investment potential of the business side of Blue Star. There was an opportunity there.
“You want me to draw up a contract?” She reached for the slim laptop sticking out of the top of her bag before she’d finished the question. Her quick reaction was enough to add weight to the argument that she was in this for the money.
“Yes.”
“I’ll write up the offer, but once we send it, we have to go do the dog and pony show for the cameras. We signed a contract.” I hated her brusque, business-like tone.
I wanted laughter or passion, even the anger I’d stirred with my earlier stunt. Soulless real estate agent made me doubt everything I wanted to be true. Like the movie said, Reality Bites.
“Sure, you’re right.” I would do the TV shoot today and every day on the schedule. Not because of the contract. My lawyer could have gotten me out of it. And not because of the advertising for my new product line. I would do it to see Cameron, to breathe the same air as her, and to figure out who she really was. And if I had any chance in hell of a future with her.
“Here, read these while I get to work on the contract. Come up with better answers. Ones that have more than a single syllable.” Careful not to let our fingers brush, she handed me a wrinkled and slightly dirt-smudged stack of 3x5 cards. Then she turned back to her laptop on the long table.
I read the first card:How much time do you envision spending in Elmer when you find your dream vacation home?
I figured that the answer to that question would depend on what kind of masochist I turned into. Would I want to torture myself with being close to Cameron for three or four months of the year, or would I need more? I envisioned seeing her unexpectedly at the grocery store or the bank—making awkward small talk when I only wanted to kiss her. Or worse, seeking her out at the Pub, trying not to stare as she and Lara gossiped at the bar while I lost more money to the guys playing darts.
Glimpses would have to be enough.
Maybe I could do six months of the year in Elmer. Or seven.
Or maybe I was an idiot.
Chapter 22
Cameron
Iturneddowntheradio, muting Taylor Swift before she could shake it off, and parked in my regular spot at Beautiful Hills Real Estate under the shade of a crepe myrtle tree. The first hot pink buds had popped open on the branches. I loved spring in Texas.
I tipped down the sun visor and looked in the mirror. The softer makeup from the TV taping looked good in real life, and my hair was still curled. But it wasn’t my physical appearance I cared about. It was my expression. I had to pull it together and look professional when I told Jude the good news. The huge smile that threatened to cause my cheek muscles to spasm needed to be toned down or I’d ruin the effect.
