Since I already know we’re meant to be together, the next move is yours.
Dane waited for her to say yes. But everything she felt was written in the strained lines of her lovely face. She didn’t believe a relationship with him could work.
He wasn’t even sure himself. Could anyone be sure? Until he’d met Susan and Bob Spencer, he hadn’t believed it was a possibility.
The only thing he knew for certain was that he couldn’t go on with Cammie the same way he had for twelve years. But what if he pushed too hard and ended up pushing her away? If he confessed all his feelings, that meant he was asking her to declare herself too. Then the pressure was on. Essentially, he’d be putting his heart in her hands, and she’d be expected to do something with it.
That very expectation could make her run.
He’d thought about this all the way to England, picked apart his feelings, his thoughts, his heart. It wasn’t that he feared for his own heart. His fears were all about putting pressure and expectations on her.
After the hot tub, he’d admitted that first time with her had been the best damned night ever. And he’d just admitted his feelings had never gone away. He’d even admitted Fernsby was right, that she was his heart’s desire.
He couldn’t say nothing.
Finally, he whispered, over tender roast beef, over mouthwatering Yorkshire pudding, over trifle and flowers and champagne, “Tell me why you think it won’t work.”
* * *
The compassion in his voice brought her close to tears.
Cammie had never talked with him about her love life, but even though they hadn’t discussed it, he knew of one bad relationship she’d had. He couldn’t know, however, what had happened when she’d been Clyde’s assistant.
There were men who lied to women to get what they wanted. Dane, of course, had never been that type. He’d always built her up, telling her what a great job she did, how she organized his life, how he’d be nothing without her. She was his idea genius.
And he was as honest as they came.
But she knew men who thought nothing of spinning a web of lies, or of the devastation they left behind. Maybe in telling Dane her story, he would understand why she couldn’t go through it all again with him.
“I made two big mistakes.” The trifle sat untouched in her bowl. “The first time was when I’d worked with Clyde for about three years.” She sighed, looking up at the ceiling a moment. “And Rufus Mayhew came into our lives. I was twenty-one, still living at home and looking after my uncle, since he was in the early stages then. Between work and Uncle Lochlan, I hadn’t dated much.” Actually, she hadn’t dated at all.
Toying with her cloth napkin, she wished it were paper. Then she’d have the satisfaction of tearing it to shreds. But even if she couldn’t look at him, she owed Dane her story. “He was beautiful. I was innocent. I had no idea what men were like. He took me to the best restaurants, bought me wonderful gifts. He was older, and he was magnetic.” She’d cared so much, and it hurt to think about how naïve she’d been.
Dane’s eyes were flinty in the candlelight. If Rufus had been standing there, he’d have punched him in the nose, she was sure. Yet something more lurked in his gaze—perhaps an ache, though for what exactly, she couldn’t tell.
She had to clear her throat. “I fell for him completely. If he’d asked me to marry him right then, I would have handed in my notice to Clyde and said yes.” She closed her eyes, put her hands to her flaming cheeks, her skin hot against her fingers. “He didn’t start pumping me for information until about two months into our relationship. I had no idea what he was doing. He said he just wanted to know about everything I did during the day so he could feel like he was with me when I was working. And he helped me with Uncle Lochlan, coming to the house, playing card games with us. He seemed so kind, so caring. I had no idea that all he wanted was information about Clyde. Things he could use to make money off him.”
She was so ashamed, she wanted to cry.
Dane laid his hand over hers on the table. “It wasn’t your fault. He took advantage. He stole your innocence. You’re not to blame.”
She whispered, “Yes, he stole my innocence.” And then she admitted, “In every possible way.”
The hard glint in Dane’s eyes turned into a burning flame. Like a gallant knight, he’d have thrown Rufus out on his butt. After running him through with his sword.
But she had yet to admit her full culpability. “One day, a deal of Clyde’s went south. Someone had gotten wind of what he’d planned and stepped in to subvert him, obviously taking the profits for themselves.”
Dane squeezed her hand so tightly it would have been painful if it were anyone else’s touch. “It. Wasn’t. Your. Fault,” he said succinctly, each word its own sentence.
“I was so excited for Clyde’s big deal.” The words seemed to rush out of her then. “It was going to be wonderful. And Clyde was so thrilled.” She stopped, held her breath, then finally made herself add, “And I told Rufus about it.”
“Even then, you still didn’t get it, did you?” Dane said softly. “You were still innocent. You had no idea there were people like that in the world.”
She sighed. “I didn’t have a clue.” It shamed her even now to think about what she’d done. “When I was in Clyde’s office, and he was railing that no one knew about the deal except him and his lawyers, I suddenly saw it. I knew about the deal.” She put a hand to her chest. “And Rufus knew because I told him.” Her soul felt like a bleak landscape as she remembered that day, realizing Rufus had used her information against them. “I had to admit to Clyde what I did.” She swallowed hard. “He didn’t even yell at me. He just said that when we’re young, it’s hard to know who to trust and who not to.”
“Did Clyde ever do an investigation?” That’s what Dane would have done.
“He found a shell company that eventually led back to Rufus Mayhew.” That was her shame. And her broken heart.
A menacing growl rose up Dane’s throat. “I hope Clyde crushed him.” But even as he fisted one hand, he stroked her knuckles gently with the other.
But her story wasn’t over. “I realized right then I had terrible taste in men, and that no matter what, they would find a way to screw me over in the end.”
Except Dane. He’d never screwed anyone over.
“Then I met you on the golf course. And we… you know.” She shrugged painfully. Though it had been only one night, she’d once again chosen the wrong man. Even if she hadn’t known it. Her shock the next day when she’d found out he was the man she was interviewing with had been like a body blow she couldn’t recover from. “But Clyde was leaving, and I desperately needed the job to support my uncle.”
“That’s why we needed the rules, wasn’t it?” Dane said for her. He sounded almost as sad as she’d felt that day.
“It was clear I was so bad at choosing who I slept with that my judgment couldn’t be trusted.”
“But what we did was amazing.” His gentle declaration was both poignant and sweet, thrilling her and saddening her at the same time. He traced a finger across her knuckles. “There was nothing bad or wrong about it. It wasn’t a mistake.”
“I know it wasn’t wrong. And you weren’t one of my bad mistakes.” She shook her head. “But it was never going to work out either.”
Now that she’d revealed her first shameful secret, why bother holding back the rest? “I dated after that, but if anyone got serious, I cut them off.” She slashed a hand through the air. “Just in case I was making another bad decision. I swear, I never told anyone anything about your business.”
He sat back, his dark brows scrunching together. “How could you think I’d ever believe you would? I trust you absolutely.”
“Even now? After what I did for Rufus?”
“You were the innocent. You didn’t do it for him. He was the monster who used you.” He balled his fist. “If he were here…” He let the sentence hang. Then he whispered, “You said you made two big mistakes. Tell me about the other guy.”
“It was five years into working for you,” she said, so softly he leaned in close to hear.
Five years after their night. Five years of their rules. Five years of watching him date so many other women.
It cut her every time she’d set up a dinner date for him or sent roses to another of his ladies. She’d torn herself apart wondering if this one could be the one. But she’d chosen the job and her uncle over anything she could have had with Dane. She’d made the irrevocable decision the day she’d walked in to discover that her prospective employer was the man she’d slept with the night before. The man she would have to work for. The man who was a hot property to every woman who came sniffing around.
And especially to her.
So she’d ordered the gifts and made the reservations and wrapped herself in cellophane so tight nothing could puncture her.
And she’d been doing that for twelve years.
* * *
Dane’s heart tied itself into knots. She’d bared her soul to him, and he knew what that cost her. In so many ways, she was a very private person. He’d never known about Rufus Mayhew. Clyde had never said a word. Perhaps Clyde had thought Dane wouldn’t hire her if he knew. But he would never hold an innocent young woman’s mistake against her, especially when Dane knew how very much Clyde trusted her.
Clyde obviously knew she’d never make the same mistake again. But she’d learned so much more. She’d learned not to trust at all.
If she’d never met Rufus Mayhew, would things have been different twelve years ago? Would they have made the same rules the next morning? Or would they have thrown out the rule book completely?
But Mayhew had happened, and Cammie had received an almost mortal wound. Yet she’d recovered. And she’d remained strong.
She’d said it was five years after coming to work for him before she allowed herself to fall for another man. That would have been before she’d moved Lochlan and sold the house.
Five years. Which made it seven years since the Rufus Mayhew debacle. Didn’t they say things turned in seven-year cycles?
And now it had been another seven years.
She’d never told Dane about this second man, but he’d known something was up. He’d become used to reaching her almost immediately whenever he needed her, even in off hours, but she’d stopped picking up the phone right away. Sometimes she’d even had to call him back. She’d dressed up a bit more, wearing slightly more low-cut blouses—nothing untoward. Her skirts, though still circumspect, had been a little tighter, showing off her curves. Curves he couldn’t help salivating over. She’d worn a little more makeup, and her lipstick had become bolder.
Now she told him the whole story. “He was actually a very nice guy. Arlo Doyle. He’d worked for Uncle Lochlan before my uncle had to retire. Arlo came to the house one day, and Uncle Lochlan lit up. He talked as if nothing was wrong—not a single sign of dementia.” She looked at Dane. “You remember how bad he got seven years ago, when I had to put him in memory care?”
Dane nodded. He remembered so well her trauma over the decision.
“But he was himself again. The uncle I used to know. For days afterward, he remembered everything they’d talked about even though Arlo had been there only a couple of hours. I actually thought I must have imagined the shift in him, that he couldn’t be as bad as I thought.”
“I understand completely. I had a similar day with my grandfather.”
An old school chum of his grandfather’s had come to visit. The man had known him before the war, before he’d changed. And for that one day, Grandpa had been a completely different man—the man he must have been when Dane’s grandmother married him, when he’d been fresh out of college, with hopes and dreams the war had yet to destroy.
Dane still treasured that glimpse of the grandfather he’d never known.
Cammie nodded. “I thought I could make the phenomenon happen again, so I invited Arlo over.” She closed her eyes, and Dane reached for her hand once more. “But I couldn’t duplicate it,” she whispered.
He stroked her warm skin before he withdrew and let her go on.
“Uncle Lochlan liked Arlo so much. And I thought he was sweet. Then he asked me out. I said yes. I didn’t intend for it to get serious.” She blinked away what might have been a tear, so it didn’t fall. “He told me right away that he was separated, not divorced yet, but that he’d left his wife a few months before. I appreciated his honesty. And he was so good to me. We laughed together. We watched movies together. He liked all the old classics the way I do. We went to that old theater on University Avenue in Palo Alto, the Stanford, where they played classic movies, and we saw Meet Me in St. Louis. Margaret O’Brien, who played the little sister, gave a talk before the movie. It was amazing. We had pizza afterward.”
His heart flipped over, and he had to admit he was jealous. Binge-watching classic movies was their thing. And he was incredibly sad that he hadn’t been the one to take her to see Margaret O’Brien and Meet Me in St. Louis.
She shrugged. “Anyway.” And she left it at that.
He wanted to see her laugh. But they had to get through this. He didn’t ask if she’d slept with this Arlo. He accepted that she had. And he didn’t rage inwardly, since he’d skated through his always brief relationships.
She pressed her lips together for a moment, before she finally got out, “Then he told me his wife wanted to patch things up. And that she was pregnant.”
Her words tore a hole in the pit of his stomach. “I’m so sorry.”
Even now, she straightened her shoulders. “I kept my dignity. I didn’t cry. I was very proud of myself,” she said with the barest of smiles. “I told him, ‘Go back to your wife for the sake of the child.’” She waved a hand as if she were shooing a phantom away. “‘And if you need a good family therapist, I’ll find you the best one. I’m good at finding what people need.’”
That’s what Cammie always did—found exactly what a man needed right when he needed it.
“It was a thousand times worse than Mayhew, wasn’t it?” he said, not wanting to hurt her, but realizing she needed to get it all out, that she wanted him to understand why it could never work between them.
“You see, she was only three months pregnant. And we’d been dating for five.” She swallowed. “Which meant he’d slept with her while he was with me. He’d been playing both ends. Maybe he hadn’t meant to.” She shrugged her shoulders as if giving Doyle the benefit of the doubt even now. “But it made me realize I wasn’t—” She paused.
He knew exactly what she’d been about to say. “But you are good enough. He was a two-timing ass.”
Her eyes were bleak. She was back in that moment, feeling the pain all over again. The first guy she loved had only wanted her for Clyde’s contacts and his business acumen. He was a leech, a thief. The next guy had been on the rebound. He might not have meant to screw her over, but he had. And in between, there was Dane himself, seducing her on a golf course, taking her back to his condo, and making love to her that very night. Rushing her. Pushing her.
And the next morning, allowing her to make up all the rules that would keep them apart for twelve years.
He should have told her right then how he felt—though truthfully, he hadn’t known the extent of it.
But he wouldn’t believe it was too late.
“Remember when you brought me those flowers?” she asked.
He nodded.
“You knew how hurt I was even though I tried to hide it from you.”
“I knew. And I hurt here.” He put his hand over his heart. “So badly for you.”
“Then you brought T. Rex into our lives.” She sniffed. Though no tear tracks traced her cheeks, he knew she was crying inside. “I’d just come out of the office restroom, where I’d been crying, when you walked in with a big box and two coffees from the corner café.” She laughed, though it was shaky. “And you said some lady outside the coffee shop was giving away puppies.”
He smiled with the memory. “I couldn’t resist those sad puppy-dog eyes.” Just as he couldn’t resist Cammie. He’d known something was terribly wrong, and he’d been pretty sure it involved a man. He’d have done anything to make her feel better.
Her laughter came stronger now. “Then you said I’d need to help you figure out what to call him. And how to get him in and out of other countries when you traveled so you wouldn’t have to leave him behind.” Her eyes shone with her laughter, and he felt his heart beat normally again. “You gave me a task to take my mind off the bad stuff.”
She reached for him then, laying her hand over his. “Every time I think of how sweet you were that day, it makes me cry all over again. And you bought me that stuffed T. Rex after we named our puppy.”
“You’ve still got him too.” Dane had seen the puffy thing on her bed. It had been such a small thing to do, yet it made her smile. Even then, he’d wanted to make her smile.
She put her fingers to the corners of her eyes to wipe up the tears. And Rex chose that moment to pop up from beneath the table and put his paws on her thigh. Cammie tugged him onto her lap, and he curled into a ball, the way he always did when he thought she was sad. The way he had when she’d come home after her uncle died. The way he had that very first day when Dane brought the puppy into the office.
Dane told her what was in his heart. “I’ve always known when you needed me, even if you tried to pretend you didn’t.”
After a deep breath, she said, “It’s the same for me.”
He turned his hand over in hers and held on. He wanted to be right where the little dachshund was, his head cradled in her lap, her fingers running through his hair.
But he’d told her he would wait for her to make the next move, and if nothing else, he was a man of his word.
He knew, even if she didn’t, that her revelations were a huge step for her. And for him. She’d kept this locked inside. And he’d never asked, though he’d known she’d been terribly hurt. She’d put herself out there, only to prove she wasn’t good enough and that her judgment sucked. At least, that’s what she’d told herself.
He understood now why it had been so important to her to ask for that promotion. It wasn’t just about being more involved or wanting more responsibility. It was about her self-esteem, about finding the courage to ask for what she wanted. And she’d done it.
He wanted to pummel those two jerks into the ground for the way they’d treated her, but he was so damn glad the relationships hadn’t worked. He would never do the same to her. He couldn’t push her. He couldn’t put expectations on her. He couldn’t take control away from her.
Nor could they let things go on the way they had for the last twelve years. He had to be as honest as she had been. They both had their fears. And they both needed to move past them.
“Thank you for telling me all this. I understand so much better now.” He wanted to pull her into his arms, but the time wasn’t right. “We made up the rules that day in my office, and we’ve lived by them ever since.” He waited until she looked at him again. “But those rules don’t apply anymore. We need to throw them out. We need to change everything. We need more.” He stood, stopped by her chair, put his hand on her cheek. “It’s been a long travel day. Let’s sleep on it.” He kissed her forehead and whispered close to her ear, “I hope you’ll dream of me.”
He’d dream of her. He always had. He always would.
* * *
The sound of his footsteps faded as Rex snuggled into her lap. She’d thought Dane had been in the dark about her affair with Arlo until that big vase of flowers had appeared on her desk. She remembered asking, “Who are these from?” She’d brushed aside the leaves. “There’s no card.”
Dane had stood before her with not so much as a smirk on his face and said, “You must have a secret admirer.”
But she’d known it was him. He’d never taken credit for any of the nice things he’d done for her. For how he’d helped her uncle. Even in giving her the promotion when she asked for it, he’d blamed himself for not having promoted her long ago.
Maybe that day, as she’d cried her eyes out in the bathroom, she hadn’t been crying so much for Arlo and the way it ended, but for the way Dane had always seen inside her, even the things she hid from him. Maybe she’d been crying out of gratitude and longing and a sense of regret. What if, the moment she’d walked into his office the morning after the golf game and seen the man of her dreams, she’d told him right then she couldn’t work for him because she wanted to be in his life as far more than an assistant?
If she’d found the courage to ask for what she wanted all those years ago, what might have been?