Be Mine Forever (9 page)

C
am massaged his temples, seated on the floor with his back to the love seat in Jo’s suite, elbows to knees and head in his still-trembling hands. It had been so real. Like it was happening all over again. The cheap, pungent cologne trapped in his nostrils. The big, calloused hand pressing his neck into the weathered wood of the table beneath his cheek. The steady scratch of the table legs scraping across the linoleum floor with each violent movement, all the more vile because of the sun shining through the kitchen window. In broad daylight.

And the pain.

God, the pain, splintering up his back and puncturing him from behind.

Cam curled his bare toes into the plush area rug. He knotted his fists at the base of his neck, rubbing the tight muscles there, and brushed the sweat from his face.

He had to pull it together before Jo got back from her run with Meredith. If he was going to be with Jo, he had to fix this. Figure out how to get rid of these damn dreams. He sniffed at his T-shirt. Did he smell like him? Was it his imagination that the nasty, cloying scent had somehow crossed space and time and infected the fibers of his clothing again? Cam ripped the shirt over his head and tossed it across the room. He strode to the bathroom, shedding his jeans and stepping into Jo’s gargantuan shower.

The water wasn’t hot enough. Nothing could wash away the filth. Those hands on his shoulders. Sweat dripping from above into his hair. Spittle on his face. God, he couldn’t get clean. He barely noticed his chest and arms reddening under the scalding water and the vigorous scraping of his nails. He sank to the shower’s stone bench, pulling one knee up and enfolding it with his arm. The hot water wasn’t nearly as scorching as the shame these memories burned into him every time they paid him a nocturnal visit.

“Cam!” Jo’s voice, bordering on urgent, already concerned. “Are you here?”

Cam swallowed over his aching vocal cords. He’d awakened with screams running up his throat and fleeing his mouth. He turned off the shower, stepped out, and grabbed a towel from the hook by the door, knotting it around his hips.

“I’m in here. In the bathroom.” He prayed he sounded normal, even though he didn’t feel it yet. Couldn’t reach it yet.

Jo waved at the thick-as-soup steam filling the room.

“Good grief. Was the water set on hot as hell?” She stopped in her tracks, her eyes resting on his bare torso. “What happened to you?”

“Huh?” He looked down at himself. His arms and chest glowed red, angry lines striping him where his nails had dug in. “Oh, I guess I was…the water must have been too hot.”

“I have some ointment we can—”

“It’s fine, Jo. Leave it.”

“No, really.” Jo walked over to open the medicine cabinet. “I know I have some.”

“I said drop it.” Cam’s sharp voice sliced through the steam.

Jo looked over her shoulder, still facing the medicine cabinet.

“Jo, I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just…Leave it, okay?”

Jo faced him, leaning against the bathroom counter. She pulled her headband off and the elastic holding her hair hostage. She fiddled with them both before wrapping them around her wrists and looking him in the eye.

“Did you…did you scratch yourself like that, Cam?”

Jo would never understand not feeling clean. Like in-your-bones, under-your-skin dirty. Beyond-scalding-water dirty. One day in and he was already giving her reason to regret taking a chance on him. She’d think he was crazy if he told her he smelled that monster’s cologne on his shirt, on his skin, in his hair. The man was dead.

“Maybe I’m having some allergic reaction.”

He walked over to her, tightening the knot on his towel as he went, until he stood directly in front of her. He swept her mass of hair over one shoulder, leaning down to kiss behind her ear.

“Good morning.” He smiled when she shivered from his breath in her ear. His responsive girl. “Did you have a good run?”

“Yeah. It was fine.” Her words sounded light and airy.

He took a step closer until the water from his chest dampened the fabric of her running top. He ran his finger along his new favorite body part, Jo’s collarbone. So delicate, like elegant dashes just under her skin.

“And now I’m getting you”—he kissed her ear and brushed his hand over her bottom, down her thigh, and gently gripped—“all wet.”

She lowered her long, curly lashes until they rested on her cheeks.

“Are you trying to distract me with that beautiful body, Cameron Mitchell?”

Wow, the full name. And, yes, he had been, but he’d forgotten Jo wasn’t one of these girls he could bat his lashes at and turn her mind to mush.

“Me?” He touched the chest riveting Jo’s eyes. “I distract you?”

He stepped back, turned on his heel, and walked toward the bathroom door.

“Good to know,” he said, giving her a wicked grin over his shoulder. “I’m going to cook breakfast. You should probably shower. Don’t you have a meeting?”

Jo just looked at him for a moment through the steam still floating in the bathroom. Without a word, she pulled her top over her head and did a slow peel of her running shorts over her hips and legs. Cam’s mouth fell open. That was the last thing he’d expected her to do. She stood tall and naked and absolutely perfect, the steam curling lovingly around her long, lean body and clinging to the lush curves, concealing as much as it showed.

“Now who’s distracted?”

She walked over to the shower, turned the water on, got in, grabbed a sponge, and started soaping her body in long swipes.

“I don’t need much in the way of breakfast, but there is some Walsh Foods turkey bacon in the fridge. And maybe just some fruit.”

Cam didn’t even realize his feet were taking him toward the shower until Jo snapped her fingers at him, borrowing his wicked grin.

“Don’t get
distracted
. And I thought you wanted to take it slow?” Jo closed the shower door. “My breakfast, please.”

Cam backed out of the bathroom with slow steps, relishing the opaque flashes of Jo’s body through the glass. Slow was overrated. He might want to sort things out in his mind before making love to Jo, but his body was ready
now
. He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to convince his body to wait until he was sure it was safe.

J
o fell back, starfishing on the bed, letting the mattress envelop her tired body. She didn’t even bother taking off her dress and heels. What a day. She had been in meetings, taking calls, and plowing through paperwork all day to get things settled for the first Haitian adoptions. And Kenya wasn’t far behind.

“Am I doing good, Aunt Kris?”

Not that she ever expected an answer, but sometimes it made Jo feel closer to speak aloud. Made her feel like Aunt Kris watched and cared from heaven. That one spot no one would ever occupy again flooded with loneliness and overflowed Jo’s eyes. Just a few tears. Fewer every time. It had been nearly three years, and Jo still sometimes forgot she and Aunt Kris wouldn’t be headed for Paris to shop. Or planning the annual Christmas benefit. Or doing any of the many things that had drawn them closer than blood. That had made them friends. That had always made Aunt Kris feel more like Jo’s mother than the mother she had never known.

“I’m trying my best,” Jo whispered, her throat swollen with tears. “You always told me that’s all you expected from me.”

Seemed everyone else had other expectations of Jo and had no trouble making them known. The board expected bigger donations, more fund-raisers, a quicker pace on the adoption project. And what about the domestic front? Let’s not neglect home for foreign soil. Daddy was chairman of the board and had brilliantly positioned the foundation as one of the country’s most respected nonprofits, but Aunt Kris had been the heart, drive, and soul behind it. Aunt Kris was irreplaceable, and Jo had to replace her.

Thank God for Peter. Little had she known when the board hired him that he’d be such a godsend. Maybe he was just passing through. Hell, he had his family’s lumber empire waiting for him, but Jo would enjoy the help and support while she had him. And his friendship, even though he so obviously wanted more. Now that Cam had finally shown her how he actually felt, she knew she would have to talk with Peter. He had asked her to an outdoor concert tonight, and she’d pled exhaustion. Valid, but still a delay tactic. If Cam hadn’t stolen her heart long ago, Peter would have been the perfect match.

Even though she and Cam hadn’t made formal plans before she’d left after breakfast, he said he would see her after work. Daddy and Q were both still out of town. Jo closed her eyes and smiled. Maybe she could persuade him to stay again. She shivered a little, anticipating a repeat of the night before. Maybe more.

“You look like you’re thinking naughty thoughts.”

Cam stood over her, his grin wide and open. He looked happier than she had seen him in years. Had she done that?

“Cam, you have got to stop sneaking up on me.”

He lay down beside her and gathered her into a hug, pulling her into the crook of his shoulder.

“Sorry.” He kissed her temple, laced their fingers together, and rested them on his chest. “Hi.”

“Hi.” She scooted closer and threw one leg over both of his. “Hmmmm. I waited all day for this, you know.”

“Hard day?”

“Long day.” Jo tugged the dark hair flopping over his eyes. “This is getting really long.”

“You don’t like it?” He frowned into her palm.

“I like everything about you, mister.”

His body stiffened against her and he sat up, legs over the side of the bed, giving her only the breadth of his back.

“You don’t know everything.”

Jo scooted behind him, skirt scrunched up her legs on either side of him, and laid her head against his back.

“I know everything I need to know to lo…I know everything I need to know.”

Surely Cam knew she loved him? But it didn’t take Einstein to figure out it wasn’t just the sex he wanted to take slowly. They had been together not quite twenty-four hours. That L-word would have to wait, but Jo wanted to send an intergalactic memo so the whole world would know.

“Do you take classes to learn to walk in these things?”

Jo laughed, turning her ankles in the snakeskin Stuart Weitzman stilettos she’d worn all day. Cam undid the buckle and pulled them off. He wrapped his long fingers around the arch of her foot, squeezing and massaging. He worked his way up from her heel to the tips of her toes. She fell back onto the bed again, feeling like she could die happy right now.

“That feels good?”

A moan-sigh was all she could manage. Consciousness slipped away. The muscles of her face slackened and her breath deepened. And then bliss and then nothing.

“Hey.” Cam hovered over her, a knee on either side of her hips. “Wakey, wakey. I have plans.”

Jo creaked one eye open to peer up at Cam from her puffy, perfect bed.

“Plans that involve me getting up?”

“We could just stay here.” Cam stood and leaned against the bedpost at the foot of her bed. “I thought we could have our first date, but if you—”

“I’m up! I’m up!” Jo bounded off the bed and stood in front of him, unable to restrain the grin that broke its leash and landed on her face. “What should I wear?”

“Oh, I get to decide?” Cam spanned her waist with his hands and pulled her close.

Jo took his hand and led him to her closet. She faced him and spread her arms wide to encompass the small village that was her wardrobe.

“Take your pick.”

An hour later, they parked just off the Rivermont Square. Cam turned in his seat, eyes appraising his handiwork—the mist-colored sundress Jo had never worn.

“I must say, I chose well.”

Jo glanced down at the dress she had forgotten she owned. Even now that he had money himself, Cam’s eyes had saucered at the two-thousand-dollar price tag.

“Yes, you did. It’s a great dress.”

“I wasn’t talking about the dress.”

Jo turned in her seat, leaning her back against the window, settling in for whatever Cam had to say. He could read the phone book. Recite the Bill of Rights. She really didn’t care, as long as he was talking to her and not running in the other direction.

“If not the dress, then what?”

“I chose well last night.” Cam reached across the console to stroke each finger one by one. “In the gazebo.”

“It took you long enough.”

Jo laughed when his face told her he wasn’t sure if she was joking. She could joke now that he was hers. And he was. Whatever defense he had built up against her before had completely fallen. He might still have some secrets to share, but his heart…it was in every glance, in every touch, in every kiss. His mind might still be figuring things out, but his body told her in every way it could that he knew he was hers.

Cam opened the passenger door for her, helping her out of the car. He trapped her between his body and the Land Rover Aunt Kris had left him. He bent the few inches until their mouths were close, but not touching. His words humid and sweet on her lips.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to choose you, Jo.” His eyes, beautiful cloud and stormy sea, softened. “It’s not because I never wanted you. I didn’t think I
should
have you. That I deserved you. I still don’t. I just can’t fight it anymore. Do you get that?”

Jo didn’t respond. Her elation that he wanted to be with her had risen to the top, but just beneath lay a heap of rejection and hurt, accumulated and nursed for years. Watching him choose everyone else with not even a sign that he would ever choose her—yeah, that was like a splinter she was still coaxing out from under her nail.

“I assume food is part of this first date.” Jo pressed her hand to his chest, her smile sweeping away some of the painful residue.

“Of course.” He led her to the cluster of restaurants bordering the square, stopping in front of Stream, a seafood spot she had been wanting to try.

“This okay?” He gestured to a strip of bistro tables dotting the sidewalk just beyond the restaurant sign. “We could go somewhere else. I didn’t think you’d want anything formal after such a long day, but if you want, we can—”

“It’s fine. It’s perfect. You know I love eating outside.”

Jo reached up to kiss him on his stubbly cheek, loving that he had left some bristles for her on the strong line of his jaw. Cam had cleaned up. None of the usual paint under his nails. Hair tamed into dark half waves, half curls past his ears and just shy of his shoulders. Dark jeans and a well-tailored chambray shirt. Even out of his brash T-shirts and battered jeans, there was still something provocative and exotic about him. Something that drew and wouldn’t relinquish your focus. Jo braced herself for the inevitable attention that came with Cam. It had taken her this long to get him. She certainly wasn’t sharing him now, but she could be civil to any women wanting to express their admiration. Like their server, who couldn’t seem to look anywhere but at Cam. He didn’t even notice.

“And with the Chilean sea bass”—Cam glanced up from the menu—“you think the pinot grigio, Jo?”

Jo bit her lip. She hated bass. She should have been paying attention instead of glaring at the girl salivating over Cam.

“Sorry.” She ran her eyes down the menu. “Could I have the Maryland crab cakes instead?”

“I thought the sea bass might get your attention.”

“So you’re not ordering sea bass?”

“I am, but I remembered
you
hate it. Figured that would jerk you out of wherever you went in your head.”

Jo grinned, returning her menu to their server. He knew her as well as she knew him, and yet he carried so much mystery. His eyes harbored it. And she knew, even though he hadn’t shared yet, that his dreams kept his secrets.

It was only when Jo was with Cam that she realized how much more she enjoyed him than anyone else. They didn’t have to talk, to stuff every quiet moment with chatter to feel comfortable with each other. And, yet, sometimes she couldn’t get the words out fast enough. All the things she had hoarded all day that she only wanted to share with him.

After they’d finished eating, Cam gave the server his credit card and looked back to Jo, expectation on his face.

“You want to know what’s next?”

“So now you have your own Black Card, huh?” Jo nodded to the invitation-only card she had pocketed for years.

Cam just smiled and pulled her to her feet.

“Do you or do you not want to know what’s next?” He pushed one hand up under the hair at her nape and curled his arm around her waist, pulling her close enough to feel body heat through his clothes. “Or do I choose for you?”

“Are you going to be a bossy boyfriend?”

Something shifted on his face, and Jo realized she had called him her boyfriend for the first time. She refused to take it back. She had lived for years on a diet of imagination and ambiguity. She had no problem defining this relationship. If he did, she needed to know that. Now.

“Am I your boyfriend, Jo?” An almost-smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, and he settled their linked hands on his chest.

“Do you want to be?”

Cam opened his mouth, about to answer, when someone jostled Jo from behind. She turned, keeping one of Cam’s hands, ready to apologize for taking up half the sidewalk.

“I’m sorry, we—” She stopped, spotting Peter and two other blond guys, all carrying greasy bags. “Peter, hey.”

Peter looked from her face to her hand linked with Cam’s. His expression pinched, and he just stood there like he was at a loss.

“Hey, Jo.” Peter cleared his throat and took the few steps separating him from her and Cam. “I didn’t expect to see you.”

He didn’t say it, but she heard what he left in parenthesis. (
You know. Since you turned me down because you were so exhausted.
)

Peter gestured toward the two blond giants standing by and clutching their dinner.

“Jo Walsh, these are my cousins in town from college, Hans and Chad.” Peter glanced at Cam. “And this is Cam Mitchell.” Peter gave Jo a deliberate look. “Cam’s like a brother to Jo.”

Cam’s fingers tightened around Jo’s hand. Hans and Chad dove into the tiny slice of awkward silence left in the wake of Peter’s comment, making the appropriate noises and shaking hands. They shuffled their feet and looked up the sidewalk, obviously sensing the undercurrents but unable to find a polite escape.

Jo shot a glance Cam’s way. His face was a rocky plain and his eyes flinty. She willed him to look at her, but his eyes never left Peter’s face. Intense emotion came off Peter in waves. Jo stood trapped between Cam’s belligerence and some mixture of anger, hurt, and disappointment that Peter kept stirring.

“I know it’s bad to bring up business when you guys are here to have fun.” Jo injected a fake apology into her voice and the look she offered the cousins. “But I need Peter for just a second.”

Peter spared her a glance and nodded.

“Guys, I’ll meet you at that spot by the river we scoped out.”

The two cousins offered a short chorus of “nice to meet yous” before walking off.

Now for the hard part.

“Cam, I’d love some ice cream.” Jo glanced up at him, waiting for him to take his eyes off Peter. He finally gave her a
you’ve got to be kidding me
look.

“Please.”
Please give me a few minutes to make this right.

She didn’t bother saying that out loud but sent Cam mental Morse code she hoped he could read. His eyes gave her the concession she needed and he dropped her hand.

“Mocha chocolate chip?”

“Perfect.”

She waited for Cam to walk off before turning to face Peter, an explanation fully formed on her lips. He stole her chance by speaking first.

“I see you found your second wind.”

Jo closed her eyes against the accusation in Peter’s eyes. She assured herself that she had not misled him and opened her eyes with that certainty.

“Peter, I’m sorry it happened this way, but I told you from the beginning, and along the way, that I was only looking for friendship right now.”

“You didn’t have to lie to me about the concert tonight.”

“I didn’t lie.”

“Don’t parse words with me.”

“You asked if I wanted to go to the concert with you and I said I was tired. That was true. When I got home, Cam had planned dinner for us.”

“So it’s just dinner.” His eyes lit a little and he reached for her hand. “I thought—”