“Conference chicken, yum. Exactly what I wanted for lunch.” Maria groaned, dropped her tray on the table, and flung herself into the chair next to Camille.
In the crowded ballroom-turned-lunchroom, it was hard to hear, but Camille just shrugged, grinned, and popped a bite of the maligned poultry into her mouth. “It tastes okay to me.”
“Mmm. You have a glow about you, mi amiga.” Maria propped her chin in her hand and widened her eyes. “Did you have a good evening with your optometrist?”
“It started out terribly, but ended well.” Camille gave a quick rundown of the night before, leaving out most of the naughty details, but her friend got the point.
She couldn’t deny she was smiling more today than she had in recent memory. She also had the sweet soreness that only came from really amazing sex. Even better sex than she’d anticipated, and her hopes had been pretty high. Not that she told Maria that, but Camille’s face apparently gave her away.
Then again, Maria had something of a glow about her as well. “How’s Tarun doing today?”
“I have no idea.” Maria tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I left him in his room at two in the morning, begging for more.”
Camille shook her head. “I bet he didn’t know what hit him.”
“All according to my nefarious plan.” The other woman’s grin was smug.
“Be careful, hon.” Camille had no idea how well the revenge plot was going to work out, but she hoped her friend knew what she was doing. Maria had been in love with Tarun at one point. Maybe she’d escape unscathed and flit back to Europe, but she might not. So, Camille cautioned, “You know this plan of yours means you’re playing with fire, right? That might be fun, but don’t get burned.”
“It’s him who’ll get scorched.” Her friend’s jaw jutted. “I know what I’m doing.”
“He might know what you’re doing too.” She wagged her finger. “Don’t forget you were together for two years. He’s wise to your games.”
“Perhaps.” Maria leaned forward. “But he’s volunteered to play along, hasn’t he? He doesn’t seem to have learned yet that I play my games better than he does.”
“Okay.” Camille held up her hands. “You know your limits better than anyone. I just wanted to be the voice of reason for a moment.”
“I appreciate that. I really do, but you needn’t worry. Now let’s finish this cooked rubber quickly so that I don’t have to taste it, and so I can escape before Tarun gets here and tries to sit with us. I want to seem mysterious and unavailable unless I decide we should spend time together.” Putting actions to words, her friend consumed her chicken in record time, making a few disgusted faces, but she didn’t voice any further complaints.
Snorting, Camille followed suit, inhaling her meal. Since it wasn’t the best food she’d ever tasted—not like Mema Hunt’s barbeque, for example—she didn’t mind rushing.
When they rose and dumped their trays at the side of the room, Camille’s phone buzzed. She pulled it out to read the text, which was from Nora. You’re lucky you missed this trip. The kids fell in poison oak and I sprained my ankle on the hike out. There’s a lot of whining going on.
“Oh, dear.” Camille typed in a quick reply. I wouldn’t blame you if you’re doing most of the whining. That sucks! I’m so sorry!
Maria craned her neck to try to see. “Is it from Dalton?”
“No, from my sister Nora.” Camille turned her phone so her friend could read the messages. “They’re leaving their camping trip early.”
The Latina winced in sympathy, but said, “Americans are strange. The only way I’d go into the wilderness is if there was a remote spa with mud baths, hot springs, and hour-long massages in store for me.”
“We all have our things.”
The phone vibrated again, and Camille stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Maria so they could both read. I’m trying to soldier on, but I admit a few whines have escaped. I’m so ready to be home, but there are a couple hours of driving left. I’m going to pop some pain pills and try to sleep in the car.
Oh, poor Nora. There was nothing good about a miserable car ride, even without Camille’s dislike of road trips. She wanted to give her sister a hug and do something to make it better, but there was little to be done from thousands of miles away, so she replied, Good idea. Rest up and get that ankle on ice. I’ll check in on you later.
Twenty seconds later, another message popped up. Hope your trip is going better than mine.
“Tell her the truth,” Maria urged. “That your trip is perfect because you have a hot new lover.”
“I also lost my glasses and was attacked by pollen.” So Camille gave the most truthful response she could. It’s had ups and downs, but I’m glad I came.
“Well, yes.” Maria gave her a one-armed hug. “You got to see me, at the very least. You should be glad about that. Not to mention Dalton.”
As if her sister had heard the Dalton comments, Nora texted, You know Hazel emailed me about your guy, right?
Camille snorted. Like that was surprising. She’d known the moment she’d gotten off the phone with Hazel that her other siblings would get the scoop within an hour. She sent back, What? Big sisters talking behind my back? I’m shocked.
Ignoring that, Nora asked, Used the condoms I sent with you yet?
Maria’s laugh trilled out. “She has you there.”
Yep, no question. Camille elbowed her friend in the ribs and then replied to her sister, One or two, and that’s all the detail I’m giving you. You should be resting.
Nora’s answer flashed across the screen. I see how grateful you are. You’re welcome.
“Everyone I know is insane.” Shaking her head, Camille sighed and typed in, Thank you. Love you. Take your painkillers and feel better.
Love you to the moon and back, Nora replied. It was a line she’d used a million times, and its familiarity only made it sweeter.
“You have nice sisters. They give you condoms. My sister just reminds me I’m a lapsed Catholic.” Maria rolled her eyes and looped her arm through Camille’s. “So…I signed up for the trip to Dollywood. We’re leaving in an hour. Are you coming?”
She shuddered, shoving her phone back in her purse. “You couldn’t pay me enough to go to Dollywood. But, to be fair, I loathe almost all amusement parks.”
“This will be an anthropological experience, darling!” Maria tugged her toward the stairs leading to the lobby. “When will you have this opportunity again?”
Cocking her head, Camille said, “That’s only important if I’m interested in this opportunity, which I’m not.”
The other woman huffed. “Fine, I’ll go with our other colleagues and you’ll miss out on something special.”
“Uh-huh. ‘Special’.” She made quotation marks with her fingers. “So you didn’t choose to go on this trip because you know Tarun wouldn’t be there, thus letting you be mysteriously absent and leaving him wanting?”
“No, I signed up before I realized he’d be here,” Maria retorted hotly, then relented with a giggle. “But it does play so well into my plan, doesn’t it?”
“An undeniable perk,” Camille agreed. When they reached the lobby, she slipped her arm from Maria’s grip.
“Are you going to attend more talks? Did I miss something incredible in the program?”
“Nope.” Camille pursed her lips. “It’s a national holiday. A half day of work is good enough, I think.”
Her friend smirked. “When will Dalton be here to pick you up?”
“Soon.” She didn’t even bother denying that she was skipping out to be with a guy. “We’re going fishing today.”
Maria eyes and mouth went round with horror. “That is better than Dollywood? You’re volunteering to handle live bait and dead fish?”
“Americans are weird that way.” Camille patted Maria’s shoulder, consoling the other woman. Every culture had its odd points, and apparently touching unsanitary items wasn’t a norm for city-bred Chilean women. “Fishing, camping, sometimes at the same time. We’re oddballs.”
“Sí.” She shook her head. “There are some things about your people I’ll never understand.”
“I guess it’s good that you abandoned us for Europe.” Camille hugged her friend tight. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Over Maria’s shoulder, Camille saw Dalton enter the lobby. His face lit when he spotted her, and he made a beeline in her direction.
“Of course. Then I can tell you all about making Tarun grovel.” Maria arched a challenging brow. “As he should.”
Dalton walked up, a smile kicking up one corner of his mouth. “Is it bad that I feel sorry for this groveling man?”
“Don’t feel bad. I promise he will enjoy it.” Maria’s dark eyes sparkled wickedly. She winked, and sashayed away. “Enjoy your dead fish!”
“What? She didn’t want to come along?” He feigned surprise. “The lake is beautiful this time of year.”
“Appalling, isn’t it?” Camille offered a breezy smile, but her heart had skipped a beat the moment he’d arrived and hadn’t quite settled back into normal rhythm. “Who wouldn’t want to spend an afternoon fishing?”
Instead of answering, he focused his gaze on her lips, and the need in his expression made her tingle. He asked, “How do you feel about public displays of affection?”
“You mean PDA like a kiss or like the PDA we shared by the elevator the day we met, because dry humping right here in the lobby is probably more than—”
His mouth cut her off, his arm slipped around her waist, and he drew her against the hard lines of his body. Every inch of them fit perfectly together. His kiss lingered just long enough to be satisfying, but not so long that they’d elicit catcalls from anyone walking by. He tasted like coffee and Dalton—two very addicting things.
When he drew back, he pitched his voice low enough so that he wouldn’t be overheard. “I missed you. I want you. Again.”
She felt a blush rush up her cheeks, but she waved away what he’d said. “It’s only been a few hours, and I know you got laid this morning, so you can’t be that hard up.”
Luckily they’d discovered a box of perfectly good condoms in his medicine cabinet, which meant they could sex it up three times last night. And they’d rounded it out to a nice even four before she’d returned to the hotel this morning.
After the previous night’s sexcapades, she only wanted him more. Sure, she should attend every second of the conference, but everyone wanted her to cut loose a bit. If she missed a couple of presentations this afternoon, it wasn’t going make a difference to anyone, so she was going to be irresponsible for the first time in years. Sue her. “Did you want to risk taking me out into nature again, or just go straight up to my room?”
He sighed and dropped his forehead against hers. “I’ll leave that call to you.”
She considered it for a solid minute. Nature hadn’t been good to her yesterday, but she did want to see more of the surrounding area. If she was going to come all the way from California, and make a commitment to take a break from her workaholic ways, she should do more than the mattress mambo.
Plus, there were only so many times a body could do the deed without starting to chafe. “Fishing. I haven’t done that in years.”
“Good, otherwise I borrowed my uncle’s boat for nothing.” He threaded his fingers through her hair. “Do you need to change?”
“Nope. These clothes are as casual as I have with me.” She waved a hand down at her khaki shorts and cotton T-shirt. She’d purchased a pair of sunglasses and a floppy hat to shield her pale skin, but nothing extra would fit in her tiny bag going home. “Let’s get some hooks in the water. Do we eat or release what we catch?”
“Also your call.” He shrugged, set his palm on the small of her back, and urged her toward the exit. “I usually keep what I catch and give anything I can’t eat to my family.”
“Okay, then.” They stepped outside, and the humidity wrapped around her like a blanket. She sucked in a deep breath, still shocked by the intense moisture. California was so much drier than Tennessee. Ah, well. She was spending the day in this, so she’d better adjust fast.
“No squeamishness?”
“None. I bait my own hook too.” Big sister Anne had insisted they all learn how, just as their father had taught her. Bugs, bait, fish, roughing it outdoors—there was no girly fussiness allowed with the Kirbys. Except when it came to her mother, who’d faint at the sight of a dead animal. But Dinah had married in, so she didn’t count.
Then again, she’d remarried, so she wasn’t technically a Kirby anymore anyway.
Camille pulled herself back to the conversation. “Should I squeal and protest how cruel it is to eat the poor fish? How would that be any different than ordering fish in a restaurant? The little guy still had to die.”
“Some people don’t like being reminded of that.” They headed straight to the back of the parking lot, where his Jeep had a small silver dinghy on a trailer hitched behind it.
She hopped into the passenger side and clipped on her seatbelt. “I’m not turning vegetarian any time soon, so if I’m going to catch it and eat it, then I have to put my big girl panties on about its demise.”
He climbed behind the wheel and fired up the Jeep. Slipping on a pair of dark sunglasses that disguised his expression, he commented, “I like your big girl panties. I’d like to take them off with my teeth.”
A shiver passed through her as that mental image formed. Oh, yeah. That was something she’d liked to try. She cast him a coquettish glance. “You just might get the opportunity tonight.”
After shifting into gear, he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the highway. “But, first, we tackle Mother Nature again.”
“I’m a glutton for punishment.” She held her palms up and shrugged.
His eyebrows arched over his shades, a wicked lilt entering his voice. “Really?”
She just smiled and watched the town disappear as they headed into the Smoky Mountains. There was no getting over how gorgeous it was here. She might adjust to the humidity, but she doubted she’d ever love that part of the weather.
Then again, she wasn’t buying a vacation home here, so she didn’t need to worry about that.
Dalton cranked up the air conditioning, and after the pollen issue, she was just as happy not to have the windows down.
Though if this evening turned out as well as that one, she might be willing to deal with more pollen.
* * * * *
Camille hadn’t been bragging—she baited her own hook, handled her fishing pole like a pro, and caught more fish than he did. Dalton was impressed. Not with the extra fish, because their take wasn’t anything to write home about, but that she seemed as comfortable in her fancy conference hotel as she was here on the lake, rocking on the gentle waves. He’d never even managed to get his ex-wife anywhere near the lake, let alone put a pole in her hands. She’d hated any road that wasn’t paved and any body of water that wasn’t chlorinated.
“Are we about ready to head in?” He hadn’t had so much as a nibble in a while, and it was sliding toward dinnertime. He’d brought water and snacks, but his stomach was starting to rumble for something more substantial.
“Yeah, that sounds— Oh, I got a bite!” Camille’s shoulder bumped into his as her arms jerked forward, and their life jackets rustled as they brushed. He heard her cranking the reel, working the fish in. After a couple of minutes, she pulled a decent-sized bluegill out of the water. “Awesome!”
A huge smile lit her face, and some hot-sweet emotion tightened his chest in response to her obvious joy. God, she was beautiful. He’d never met another woman he’d had more fun with. And that alone was a dangerous thought. He shook himself out of staring at her and helped her get the last fish into their bucket.
She popped a kiss on his cheek, the wide brim of her hat colliding with his forehead. She pulled back with a chuckle. “Sorry about that.”
Shaking his head, he said, “Never apologize for kissing me. Seriously.”
“Okay.” She dimpled. “So…do you know what kind of fish that was?”
“Bluegill.” He took her pole and set it beside his in the boat. “They’re pretty common in these parts.”
“I know this one is a largemouth bass.” She pointed to the biggest fish in the bucket. His catch, though that was luck rather than skill. It was usually easier to get a bass in the darker, cooler hours of day. She indicated another fish she’d nabbed. “But what’s that last one?”
“It’s got a couple of names. I prefer calico bass.”
She cocked her head. “What’s the other name?”
“Crappie. Pronounced like ‘crop’, spelled like ‘crap’.” He waited a beat for her reaction, and she didn’t disappoint.
Her eyes rounded, and her face scrunched. “Is it named that because it tastes like crap?”
“No. The taste is just fine.” He chuckled at her disgusted look. “Now you know why I prefer calico bass—there’s no crap in it.”
“Yeah, I don’t want to think about crap while I’m eating.” She nodded firmly. “I’m sticking with calico bass too.”
“Whatever makes you happy.” He fired up the engine and steered them back to shore. The boat bounced over the water, and Camille grabbed the sides of the boat to maintain her balance.
She glanced back at him. “Happy with my crappy!”
“You say it like croppy, not crappy. Crappie.” He laughed at her unrepentant expression, and the sound whipped away in the wind. They sped toward where he’d parked the trailer. Once they hit the shoreline, he hopped out. She threw him the rope, and he pulled the dinghy up. He gave her a hand out and steadied her so she didn’t twist her knee.
After they got the boat loaded onto the trailer, he settled the dead fish into his ice chest. She peered over his shoulder. “How many did we catch?”
“I got two.” He shut the lid and washed his hands with the soap and water he’d brought for just that purpose. She followed suit, and he said, “With that bluegill, you’re up to four.”
“Seriously? I won?” She threw her arms up and did a little victory dance. “I won!”
“You won.” He grinned at her celebration. Luckily, he didn’t judge his masculinity based on his pole, and he was just glad they’d made it through the trip without any disasters. He’d loved chatting with her, laughing, rocking with the waves. But there’d been a bit of tension in his gut, waiting for something to go wrong. The longer they’d been there, the more he’d relaxed, letting himself have an amazing time.
“Am I sunburned?” She pushed back her hat. “I put on SPF 9000, but the ginger curse means that sometimes nothing helps.”
Oh, this was an opportunity too good to miss. He stepped forward, tugged her hat off, tossed it in the backseat of the Jeep, and cupped her shoulders between his palms. Leaning close, he pretended to examine her face. Their eyes met, and he couldn’t prevent a satisfied smile when he saw heat fill her gaze.
“I think I see an extra freckle. Right here.” He kissed the tip of her nose, then the spot right below her ear, nipping with his teeth. “Or maybe here.”
“Mmm.” She tilted her head to give him more access. “Freckles I can handle, burns not so much.”
He nibbled his way down her throat, anticipation burning in his veins. There was no way this would go anywhere, but he’d take any chance to touch her. “You’re not even a little pink, so let’s hope that holds.”
“Exactly.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Mama Nature needs to be nicer to me today.”
He buried his face in the crook of her neck, pulling in the scent of sunscreen, warm sunshine, and Camille. “I was worried she wouldn’t be.”
“I’m normally not that big of a catastrophe, if you can believe it.” Her body eased into his, soft and pliant.
“I believe it.” He squeezed her tight and leaned back just enough to look at her. “But if disaster hadn’t struck that first time, we wouldn’t have met. And that’d be a damn shame. Despite the hiccups, I’ve had a great time with you.”
“Me too.” She smiled and popped a kiss on his chin. “I can’t say I’d be happy going through it again, but I also can’t say I’m sorry with how things turned out. I still hate the contacts though.”
“Poor baby.” He stroked a finger along her cheekbone. “I don’t blame you. I don’t see why people like them. Never regretted my LASIK procedure for a second.”
She leaned her cheek into his palm. “Take me back to your place and make me dinner. Then we can revisit that whole taking my panties off with your teeth idea.”
And just that easily, he was harder than a rock, a shudder ripping through him. “You’re a little bit evil. You know that, right?”
“More than a little.” She gave him a saucy wink, not a hint of remorse on her face. In fact, she pressed her belly into his rigid erection, letting him know she knew exactly what she’d done to him. “You’re welcome.”
“Brat.” He reached around and swatted her ass, making her squeak and burst into laughter.
She danced back and poked a finger into his chest. “Just wait until later, and you’ll get to see how evil I can really be.”
“You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to that,” he murmured as he watched her hop into the Jeep, her shorts pulling tight across the sweet curve of her ass.
“Let’s go, doc.” Her arm came out the open window and she smacked her palm against the door. “I’m starving. In every possible sense of the word.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.”
In under two minutes, they were on the road, headed straight back to his place.
One thing was sure—this thing with Camille was going to be one hell of a ride.