The Mogul and the Muscle: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy(24)

Jude: Destination?

Me: Shoe shopping. I’ll drive.

Jude: No problem.





10





Cameron





Weekend Jude managed to surprise me.

He arrived at my house precisely fifty-five minutes after our last text. On a vintage Indian motorcycle.

Damn him.

I loved motorcycles. I loved men on motorcycles. I had a not-so-secret obsession with a TV series about a motorcycle gang and their very sexy and compellingly complicated leader. I read deliciously unrealistic motorcycle club romances.

And I just happened to have a view out to the front of my house when Jude Ellis pulled up on a bike, wearing black leather.

My heart skipped several beats when he pushed down the kickstand with his booted foot. Why was that so hot? He pulled off his helmet and set it on the back, then took off his leather jacket.

That left him in a white t-shirt that barely contained his thick chest and tattooed arms, and a pair of dark jeans. So simple. But god, he made that look good.

“Sorry, Cam, I can’t let you go out with a boy on a motorcycle.”

I gasped at the deep, slightly accented voice behind me and put my hand on my chest. “Oh my god, you scared me.”

Bert, my gardener, stood just behind me, his smile deepening the wrinkles around his eyes. He wore his usual uniform of a loud Hawaiian shirt—this one yellow with pink flamingos—shorts, and an ancient pair of flip-flops. He had deep lines in his dark skin and his short hair was entirely gray. Crooked teeth gave him the most endearing smile.

“A bit early for a date,” he said.

“He’s not my date, he’s security. Emily bullied me into hiring him after that thing at work.”

“Good,” he said, his voice serious.

Bert waited, facing the front door, his arms crossed. I raised my eyebrows at him, but he didn’t say anything.

Jude knocked, then stepped inside when I opened the door.

“Cameron,” he said.

Bert was still standing there, reminding me vaguely of my grandad when a boy had picked me up for my first school dance, junior year.

“Jude, this is Bert. He’s responsible for all the glorious foliage around here.”

The two men shook hands. Bert openly appraised him, his gaze moving from Jude’s head to his feet in a slow sweep.

“What are your intentions with our lovely Cameron?” Bert asked.

Jude didn’t show even the faintest hint of surprise. “I’m taking her shoe shopping.”

“And?”

“And whatever else she wants.”

Bert nodded slowly. “Do you plan to have her back by curfew?”

“Bert,” I said. “He’s not my prom date. He’s security.”

Bert’s eyes flicked to me, then back to Jude.

“She’s the boss, sir,” Jude said. “I’m on her schedule.”

“You aren’t taking her on that death-cycle, are you?” Bert asked.

“I planned on letting her drive.”

I felt a tiny dip in my stomach—disappointment that I wasn’t getting on that bike. Not that it made any sense to ride Jude’s motorcycle to go shopping. Not to mention how unprofessional it would be. I’d have to sit so close to him. Wrap my arms around him to hold on.

“All right, Cameron,” Bert said. “You can go.”

Shaking my head, I laughed. “Thanks, Bert. I’m glad I have your blessing to go shopping with my bodyguard.”

“You treat her like a lady, son, or we’re gonna have words,” Bert said.

“Will do, sir,” Jude said.

First my cook banging his wife in my kitchen, now my gardener interrogating Jude like he was my first date. At least Jude was getting a crash course in the weirdos in my life.

“See you later, Bert,” I said, gesturing for Jude to follow me.

“Have fun, Cameron. Make good choices.” He chuckled as he walked off in the other direction.

Jude followed me to the garage, and we got in my Tesla. Maybe it wasn’t cruising the streets of Miami with the roar of a motorcycle engine between my legs, but it was a damn fine car. I was a sucker for innovation and new technology.

I drove us through the enclave, down a palm-tree-lined road. The guard on duty at the entrance nodded when I paused to wait for the gate to open. The sun blazed outside, but I was comfortable in an aqua sleeveless blouse and beige skirt. I was a Florida girl through and through—used to the heat and humidity. Every time I had to go somewhere with more moderate weather, I was freezing.

Jude pointed to one of several tubes of sunblock I had stashed in my car. “Always prepared?”

“I’m a redhead living in Miami,” I said. “Sunscreen is life.”

“Smart.”

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. His skin was a healthy bronze, his short hair sun-kissed dark blond. Dressed in casual clothes, he looked rugged but still polished.

Traffic was light—which was a nice change. We raced down the highway to Bal Harbor, one of several luxury shopping destinations in south Florida—a tropical paradise with lush gardens, fountains, and koi ponds. It made for an enjoyable shopping experience, which was exactly what I wanted today. I needed to get out of my routine for a few hours. Wander, browse, and think about something other than work.