Hot Commodity (Banks / Kincaid Family #1)(38)

Olivia swallowed, wondering who he had to talk to so urgently. Probably some girlfriend, advising her not to come over tonight.

Jealousy thickened in her lungs, making it hard to breathe, making her follow him to the doorway and peek in.

With his back to her, he paced the sitting room. After a moment of holding his phone to his ear, he finally spoke. "Hello…? Grandma?"

Grandma? Olivia mouthed the word, her eyebrows puckering in confusion. He was in a hurry to call his grandmother? No way. It must be some kind of code language. Grandma was probably short for Hey, baby, can’t talk right now. Super secret spy stuff going on.

Olivia rolled her eyes.

"It’s Cameron," he said and, after a moment, lifted his voice, repeating, "It’s Cameron."

Okay, so maybe his girlfriend was hard of hearing. Either that or he really was talking to an elderly deaf woman.

A smile was clear in his voice when he added, "Yeah, it’s Sunday already. I can’t talk long though, I have a guest...What’s that? Oh, don’t you even worry about it, Grandma. I love calling you. No bother at all...Yes. Uh huh." After a second of listening, he threw back his head and laughed. "You naughty old woman, you. You’re going to ruin my innocent ears if you keep that up."

Curious, Olivia found herself moving forward to listen openly. He was really talking to his grandmother, wasn’t he? How bizarre.

"No, wait! Don’t hang up yet. I wanted to tell you…"

Holding her breath, she wondered if he was going to announce his marriage or something. God, she hoped not. He’d give poor Grandma a heart attack.

"I have another spoon for you to put in your collection. What? Oh, this one’s from Chicago...Yeah, I know I already brought you one from Chicago, but that was in honor of the Sears Tower. This one is for the city in general… Oh, that’ll do then, will it?" he murmured, like he was repeating what she’d just said. Turning so Olivia could see his face, he grinned and added, "Good. I was worried you’d shove it back in my face." Though he didn’t sound worried.

Olivia must’ve breathed aloud because his eyes snapped her way. They both froze.

"I have to go, Grandma," he said into the phone. "Yes, I’ll call next Sunday. I love you too. Bye." Never taking his eyes off Olivia, he snapped the phone closed.

He and Olivia took a few seconds to stare at each other, both leery.

"That…" he cleared his throat, looking suddenly rueful. "That was my grandmother. She’s been a widow for a few years now and gets lonely. So, I, uh, I make sure to call every so often."

Olivia wondered what kind of man this was who took time out of his life to call a lonely old woman every week, just to flirt with her. Her chest felt very tight.

Cameron glanced away, looking awkward, as if he were embarrassed. "Anyway," he murmured under his breath. "Who needs a drink?" He didn’t look at her again as he strolled to a nearby shelf lined with books.

He’d barely talked to her the entire day, and Olivia was fast learning she’d married herself a moody man. He could go from one extreme to the next. One moment, he was grinning and cracking jokes like a comedian. The next, he was quiet and withdrawn, wrapped up in some inner demon that made her wonder what could put that haunted look in his eyes.

Olivia figured the mood swings were why he was so successful. Growing up with Vivian as her mother, she’d met dozens of millionaires and discovered they all possessed quirky personalities. It must be a trait common among the insane masterminds. Next thing she knew, Cameron Banks would probably pull a Van Gogh and cut off his ear or something.

She had to admit, however, even at his nastiest, he had an innate

kindness. He could never in a hundred years be what Vivian was. His sour side didn’t seem to come naturally. It was like he forced himself to be rude, as if some emotional struggle was taking place in him, making him guilty about every smile he revealed, so he had to counter it with a snarl.

Apprehension attacked every nerve ending she possessed. Everything felt new and foreign. She was a long way from California, hundreds and hundreds of miles from the only home she’d ever known.

Ignoring her, Cameron rummaged through the books on the shelf until he came to one thick dictionary. But he didn’t seem interested in reading. Instead, he tugged it out of his way and reached into the open gap to extract a glass decanter filled with amber liquid.

Olivia rolled her eyes. Letting go of her suitcase handle, she strode toward him and jerked the container from his hand as soon as he’d taken his first swig.

"Don’t drink that!"

Wiping a drip that dribbled down his chin, he frowned. "Why not?"

Yeah, why not?

"Because…" Olivia sighed in irritation. She didn’t want him to think she was actually worried about him. She had a feeling he’d make fun of her if she showed him any tenderness. But, honestly, she didn’t want him to suffer any more. Despite how easily he could get her back up—not to mention how easily he got her back down on a bed—she was in his debt. He’d successfully removed her from Vivian’s life. The kind of gratitude that act inspired made her want to save him from himself.

"Horrible things happen to me every time you drink," she said, instead of revealing her compassion. "First, I ended up marrying just the man I wanted to avoid. Then, the next time I ran into you while you were drunk, my mother found out about everything and I lost the only home I’ve ever known. And now, I’m stuck here, clear across the country, doing God knows what with my life. I’m telling you, Bud, that’s not a very good track record."