I lean back into my chair, contemplating the possible consequences of my actions if I choose to slink out with this money, and before I can think of a single one, my stomach growls painfully.
Must be a sign. I grab my purse from the bottom drawer and hit the lights in the office. Moving through empty restaurant and out the door, I scurry as if someone’s going to jump out and catch me.
With my head down, I make way to my car when I notice a familiar car parked next to mine. I look up and my steps freeze just feet away. Leaning against my car, arms crossed at his chest, long powerful legs crossed at his ankles, is Cameron.
My hand clutches my purse to my side. “Hey, what are you doing here?” I internally scold myself for sounding more defensive than happy to see him. He can’t possibly know what’s in my purse.
It’s been days since I’ve seen him, and our quick telephone conversations do little to slake my desire to see him in the flesh.
He shrugs. “Passing by, saw the place was closed for the night. Thought I’d hang out and see if I could speak to the manager.”
My stomach jumps and goes warm. He came all the way here just to see me?
“Did you have a bad experience? Like to make a formal complaint?”
He pushes off my car and takes two steps toward me. Close, but not close enough. His eyes set in their usual glare, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his dark washed jeans. “Mmm . . .” He rubs his fingers across his lower lip, as he did the night in front of Mason. His eyes burn through me. “I have no complaints about my . . . experience.”
His presence combined with his insinuation become too much and I drop my gaze. A tickle of caution pricks at my subconscious, reminding me that I’m not the kind of girl who shies away from flirtation. I’m not timid, demure, or easily swayed by just any man. But there are a few who have brought me to my emotional knees, and both of them I dislike. Immensely.
His feet move into my line of site, and I pull my gaze up to settle on his face. How is he even more beautiful than I remember with all that thick dark hair, his fierce jaw, and full lips that I know are as powerful as they are soft?
“What’re your plans tonight?” He reaches out and brushes my bangs off my forehead.
Such a tiny gesture, but the sweetness of it makes my eyes flutter. “I was going to grab a bite to eat.”
His eyebrows pinch together. “You hungry? I’ll take you to dinner.”
I look around at the empty parking lot then move my eyes back to his. “Now?”
“You hungry now?”
“Very.”
“Then yeah. Now.”
“But it’s the middle of the night.”
The corner of his mouth lifts so slightly it’s barely noticeable. “It’s Vegas, babe.”
“But I’m in the mood for a bacon cheeseburger.” I lick my lips. I can almost taste the greasy goodness. “With green chilis.” My stomach grumbles in agreement. “And onion rings. Not the battered ones, but those breadcrumb ones.” I hum low in my throat. “Oh, and a chocolate milkshake or an ice cold beer will also do.” I tap my lips, thinking. “Hm. Maybe both.”
So lost in my food-fantasy I don’t notice the way he’s staring at me until I focus on him. His glare isn’t as tight as it usually is, and his mouth isn’t the straight—but full and kissable—line it usually is. It’s as if someone pulled the starch from his expression, not completely relaxed, but tender.
Silence builds between us and I shift on my feet. “Or not, ya know . . . I mean whatever you want is fine too.”
He tilts his head, still not speaking.
“There’s an IHOP down off of—”
“Shut up, Yvette.”
God, I hate that name, but hearing it growled from Cameron’s lips makes it more than tolerable.
“I’m sorry, it’s just . . . Did I say something wrong?”
His lips tilt, tilt, and holy shit, tilt some more, lighting his entire face, the entire city of Vegas, probably the whole damn atmosphere with the most brilliant smile.
“Far from wrong, babe.” He grabs my hand and tugs me to his chest. “I dig a woman who knows what she likes and asks for it.”
My cheek is pressed to his chest, the cotton of his shirt soft against my skin while I’m engulfed in the earthy scent of his cologne. “Oh, well . . . that’s good. I thought maybe I came off as a demanding bitch.”
His chuckle rumbles against my torso. “I know just the place.” He pulls back. “One question first.”
I wait while he studies me.
“You didn’t eat dinner.”
My eyebrows lift slightly. “That’s not a question.”
“Eve.”
“It was too busy to take a break.”
“That’s fucked. You need to eat.”
“But if I had, then I wouldn’t get to have dinner with you.”
He winds his arm around my shoulders and moves me to his car. “Excellent point.” There’s that tiny pull of his lips again.
The first night I met this guy I’d have sworn he was incapable of anything other than a scowl. I was wrong. And every time he gives me even a hint of that, my insides lurch to get at him.
This is bad, not at all what I planned for. I’m falling hard for a man who is going to destroy me. That is, if I don’t push him away first.