The Mogul and the Muscle: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy(43)

“Outside. That’s not a bad idea.”

“Oh my god you guys I think I just deleted my entire book. No, wait. False alarm. It’s here. But has anyone seen my phone?”

“It’s next to your drink.”

“I should probably switch to water.”

“Okay, ladies, are we ready to sprint? We have word counts to meet.”

“Twenty-five minutes on the clock. Go.”

“Damn, nothing about Salvio,” Daisy said. “I was hoping they’d drop some hints about his next book.”

“Sorry, Cam,” Luna said. “You were saying?”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m just not sure what I’m feeling right now. Or what I’m supposed to be feeling. I kind of thought there might be a little something there, but he’s my bodyguard. And I don’t know if he feels anything, or if he’s just doing his job. And I shouldn’t be feeling anything anyway.”

“Was there just a forehead kiss?” Daisy asked, her eyes narrowing. “Or was there touching?”

“There was touching.” Unconsciously I brushed my cheek with my fingers. “He touched my face. And kissed my temple, too.”

“Well, that changes everything,” Emily said.

“It does? Why?”

Emily leaned closer. “A forehead kiss and a temple kiss are totally different.”

“That’s true,” Luna said, nodding excitedly. “A forehead kiss is nurturing and protective. It can still be sexy, but if you’re not sure about his intentions, it can be difficult to interpret.”

“A temple kiss, though, that’s a little more romantic,” Emily said. “Especially if he was touching your face.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe. I’m probably just having a delayed reaction to last night’s trauma.”

I risked a quick glance at him. He’d melted into the background, somehow inconspicuous despite being as tall as the queens in platform heels.

A romantic gesture? Had it been? I wasn’t entirely sure if Jude even liked me all that much. We got along fine, but was there something else there?

Was that what I wanted?

I wasn’t sure about that, either.





18





Jude





On the surface, things were business as usual with Cameron. Her schedule had been jam-packed with meetings, conference calls, and debriefings from her R&D staff. She went in early and stayed late. Went straight home after work and stayed there.

I could see what she was doing. Her guardedness couldn’t hide the fact that the hit and run had rattled her. She felt out of control, and I had a very strong feeling that when Cameron Whitbury felt out of control, she dove into the things she could control.

Specifically work.

By Thursday, Brandy was giving me worried looks. Friday I heard Cameron tell Brandy to make sure her schedule was clear for the weekend. She had too much work to do.

Her demeanor was calm and collected. Her voice steady on phone calls and in her many meetings. The only outward sign that Cameron was struggling was her shoe choice. She’d been playing it safe, wearing simple black or nude heels every day.

If she’d been feeling confident, or letting her subtle rebellious streak out, she’d have been wearing something flashier on her feet. I’d already figured out that her shoes matched her mood.

I was also pretty sure I shouldn’t have kissed her after the hit and run.

It hadn’t been a real kiss. I hadn’t gone anywhere near her mouth. But I felt like I’d crossed a line with her and now she was making it abundantly clear where we stood. Keeping me at a distance so I wouldn’t get too close—wouldn’t get too familiar.

It fucking sucked.

So while she spent the week buried in her job, I spent the week sticking to mine.

Friday I accompanied her home. She said she’d see me Monday.

That sucked too.

Two days without her. I wasn’t sure how I’d let things get to this point, but the thought of having to wait until Monday to see her again made me feel like shit. Was this what I’d been reduced to? Pining for the company of my client—a woman who clearly had no interest in me beyond our professional relationship?

The air felt particularly heavy tonight and distant peals of thunder rumbled offshore. After seeing Cameron off, I stopped for takeout, then went home.

My food smelled good, but I set it aside while I did a quick Cameron check. Not that I needed to. I hadn’t been gone very long, and she never left Bluewater without me. But I did it anyway. It looked like she was next door, at her friend Luna’s house.

That was good. I liked that she wasn’t alone.

I settled in with my food and turned on my secret guilty pleasure, The Great British Baking Show. There was a simplicity to it that I liked. No drama or backstabbing. Just amateur bakers engaging in good-natured competition.

Maybe I liked it because the show had an air of normalcy to it. They were just ordinary people—talented people, certainly, but average citizens. They had regular jobs, regular homes, regular families. Even though it was a competition, there was a peacefulness to it that made it relaxing to watch.

Two episodes in—what an exciting life I led—my phone dinged with a text. I scrambled to check it in case it was Cameron, although I didn’t know why she’d text me on a Friday evening when she didn’t have anything on her schedule until Monday.