Melt for You (Slow Burn #2)(68)

I exhale in disgust. Then I drink some wine to buy time to compose myself, because I was in fact leering at him, and he caught me red-handed.

“You’re funny,” I finally manage, aiming for a nonchalant tone. “Can we get back to strategy, please?”

I swear Cam’s smile could be seen from outer space. “You’re adorable when you’re embarrassed. Those pink cheeks.”

I stand and go to the oven, peering in like I might find a cure for my mortification inside. But there’s only the shepherd’s pie, which I imagine is laughing at me.

Cam takes pity on me and lets me off the hook. “All right, movin’ on. Rule number one—we’ll call it the golden rule—is make him chase you. The longer, the better. But there are lots of subrules to this one. They all involve the art of parsin’ yourself out.”

“That sounds disturbingly prostitutional.”

“Think of it like you’re leavin’ a trail of crumbs. Small, delicious Joellen crumbs. A little bit here, a little bit there, just enough to heighten his hunger but never enough to satisfy it.”

I go back to the table and sit, starting to feel dejected. “This is all very complicated.”

“It’s the easiest thing in the world, darlin’. It’s called seduction, and it’s a game where everyone wins.” After a moment, he adds, “What was that wistful sigh for?”

“Everything would be so much easier if it could just be like it is with us.”

Cam is silent for a while. He finishes his beer, then says roughly, “You mean if you could just be friends.”

I’m not sure what I mean, because I’ve surprised myself with that statement. It was unplanned, but I have to admit it’s true. I don’t have to think when I’m with Cam. I can just be myself because I’m not trying to impress him.

“Oh!” Dazzled by a flash of inspiration, I sit up straight.

“What?”

I look at Cam, convinced I’m a genius. “I’ll pretend he’s you!”

Cam stares at me. His jaw works. He shifts his weight in his chair, and the cat jumps off his lap, unsettled. “Come again?”

“Like you told me to do when we kissed—pretend you were him!”

“And did you?” he challenges quietly, his gaze steady on mine.

I open my mouth to answer the obvious yes. But the word dies on my lips because the obvious answer isn’t the real answer. It isn’t the truth.

Both times I kissed Cam, I never once thought of Michael.

Immediately, I start to panic, my pulse skyrocketing and my hands beginning to shake. “Um . . .”

“Go ahead,” says Cam softly. “Lie to me.”

We stare at each other, and my heart decides it’s had enough of this beating nonsense and stops dead in my chest. When the phone rings, I almost faint.

Cam moves first. He strides over to the phone, picks up the receiver, then brings it to me, holding it out silently and watching as I lift it to my ear.

I know he sees how my hand shakes. I know he sees the color in my cheeks. I know he sees how irregular my breathing has become, because he’s taking all of it in, his gaze roving over my face as I squeak into the phone, “Hello?”

“Joellen. It’s Michael.”

Of course it is. The universe is having way too much fun at my expense.

“Oh. Hello, Michael.”

Cam and I stand a foot apart, our eyes locked. My blood feels like fire.

“Is now a good time for us to talk?”

“Actually, Michael”—I swallow—“I have company.”

Cam moves closer, infinitesimally, a slight lean toward me that doesn’t involve his feet.

“Company?” Michael’s voice is sharp in my ear. Too sharp.

In a turn of events I never would have predicted, and would have scoffed at anyone who dared to suggest, I’m irritated with Michael Maddox.

“Yes,” I say firmly, straightening my shoulders. “Company. I’ll have to call you back.”

Michael sounds irritated with me, too, but tries to cover it with polite words. “Of course. I’m free for the rest of the night. Call me anytime.”

“Will do. Thanks.”

“Good-bye.”

“Bye.”

Wordlessly, I hold the phone out to Cam. He takes it from my hand, stares at me for a beat, then returns the phone to its cradle on the wall, his entire body radiating tension.

I don’t know what’s happening, but it feels momentous.

“That was good,” he says to the wall. “Sounded very natural. When you call him back, don’t talk for more than ten minutes, and make sure you end the call first.”

“I’m not going to call him back.”

Cam turns around slowly. Our eyes meet with a click. “No?”

“I have a dinner guest. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

There’s a muscle in Cam’s jaw that’s getting an incredible workout. “You’ve been waitin’ on him for ten years, lassie.”

“So one more day won’t hurt. Besides, I need practice with the golden rule. I’m dropping crumbs, right?”

“I dunno, Joellen. Is that what you’re doin’?”

His voice is gravelly, as rough as my breathing . . . and he has a point.