Cowboy Come Home (19 page)

With a half sob, she looked upward. “But, Dad, he doesn’t want me.”

There was no answer, as she’d known there wouldn’t be. But her father’s words stayed with her. She hadn’t put up much of a fight, it was true. Should she give Griff one more chance? Could she force him to reconsider his withdrawal?

If not, at least she would leave knowing she hadn’t been a quitter.

DINNER WAS a lengthy affair as all the Randalls, Red and Mildred, Griffin and Camille exchanged stories of the past few days.

Except that Camille scarcely said anything.

Griffin answered any questions that were asked about their dealing with the children on their own. And sneaked a look at Camille each time. She concentrated on her meal, never looking up.

“Camille and Griff, Brett and I brought you back special gifts from San Francisco, to thank you for taking such good care of Torie,” Anna announced.

“That’s not necessary,” Griff hurriedly said.

“But of course it is, Griffin,” Camille suddenly said. “You, more than anyone, understand about repaying people for their kindness.”

An awkward silence fell. Camille seemed to realize her words were out of place. She looked at Anna. “I didn’t really mean that, Anna. It’s a private joke between Griff and me. It was very thoughtful of you to buy us something.”

Griff stared at her. A private joke? They had no private jokes, and she knew it. Her words had been a jab at him.

“We bought Griff a painting of the Golden Gate Bridge,” Brett said, a smile on his face.

“And Camille? What did you bring her?” Janie asked.

Anna giggled. “You remember that store you were interested in after you and Pete got married?” Anna asked. “The one we bought B.J. a present from? Well, I found one even better in San Francisco.” Anna laughed again.

Griff stared around the table as all four Randall wives broke into laughter. “What kind of store?”

“Oh, I don’t think I should tell,” Anna said.

“What are they talking about, Jake?” Griff demanded.

“I don’t have any idea.”

B.J. grinned at her husband. “And we don’t intend to tell you.”

“Well, let’s have these presents out for everyone to see,” Jake suggested. “We’ve all finished our dessert.”

“No, Camille gets hers in private,” Anna said.

“Brett, you know what’s going on?” Jake asked.

Griff studied Brett as his cheeks flushed.

“Uh, I promised Anna I wouldn’t say anything. I didn’t even look,” he said, shooting an apologetic look to Camille, who seemed as puzzled as everyone else.

“Come upstairs with us, Camille,” Anna said, jumping up. “We’ll show you your gift now.”

All the women, even Mildred, hurried from the room.

As soon as the door closed behind them, the rest of the men turned to Brett. Jake led the questioning. “What were they talking about, Brett?”

“I promised Anna.”

“But, Brett, we won’t tell on you.”

He stubbornly shook his head.

“But we don’t keep secrets around here,” Jake protested.

“Sure, we do,” Brett contradicted. “Just usually no one knows we’re keeping secrets, so it’s not a problem.”

ANNA’S GIFT, a shockingly sheer peignoir set in pale blue that looked good with Camille’s eyes, was beautiful. “It’s—I’ve never seen anything so beautiful, Anna, but where will I wear it? I mean—”

The ladies all burst into laughter again.

Finally, Anna said, “We expect you to wear it on your honeymoon, sweetie.”

“But I’m not getting married,” Camille assured them.

“Then you’d better hide from Griff,” B.J. warned with a laugh. “I was afraid he’d take a bite out of you instead of his dinner, the way he was looking at you.”

Camille flushed. “He may be interested in—in sex, but he’s not at all interested in marriage.”

“They never are,” Janie assured her.

“Well, thank you for—for the present, Anna. But I enjoyed taking care of Torie. And all the babies. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m rather tired.” Hoping to escape before her tears fell, Camille scooped up the peignoir set and ran from the room.

“Did we upset her?” Anna asked in a small voice.

“I don’t know,” Megan said. “But you remember how it is when you’re not sure he loves you. Maybe Griff will change her mood tomorrow.”

“Maybe we should all enlist our husbands’ help,” B.J. said. “No sense in prolonging the misery.”

The four wives nodded, then went to their respective bedrooms for a loving talk with their husbands.

CAMILLE SAT ON HER BED, staring at the gift. It was perfect for her plans, if she had the nerve.

And she did.

She’d promised herself she’d pull out all the stops to prove to Griffin that he loved her. The peignoir set was definitely perfect, unless it was overkill.

She paced the room for half an hour, debating her choices. Finally, she gathered the peignoir set, bikini panties and her favorite perfume and retreated to the connecting bath.

Half an hour later, she stared at herself in the mirror. Blue was the perfect color for her. She knew she’d get Griff’s attention.

With a sigh, she sat down on her bed and stared at the clock. She had to wait at least an hour before the household would’ve gone to bed.

She must’ve changed her mind ten times in the next hour, but when the clock said she’d waited long enough, she got up from the bed, checked her appearance one more time, then shrugged on her terry . cloth robe over the peignoir set.

Opening her door very slowly, she slipped into the semidarkened hallway, praying she wouldn’t run into any of the Randalls. When she reached the kitchen, she breathed a sigh of relief. Red and Mildred were back in their house, so she should be home free.

She tiptoed across the kitchen, rehearsing her speech. She hoped he wouldn’t slam the door in her face. But she wasn’t sure. After all, he didn’t appear to be a man interested in emotions. Especially hers.

Even if he rejected her afterward...she’d at least have memories that would have to suffice for the rest of her life.

She knocked on Griffin’s door and threw off the terry-cloth robe.

Chapter Fifteen

G
riffin lay stretched out on his bed, thinking.

He didn’t like the way Camille had reacted to the events of the day. And he was afraid she was going to leave. Because he’d gotten her money back for her.

“Damn,” he muttered wearily.

He couldn’t think of any way to stop her from going, without committing himself, and he was sure that would be a mistake. He didn’t know how to make a relationship work. And if he married her and then she left him, he didn’t think he could face the pain.

A knock on the door disturbed him. Maybe Jake found out about Camille’s gift and wanted to share with him. He pulled on sweatpants and opened his door.

He couldn’t believe his eyes.

But his body could. Already he was responding to the vision of Camille standing before him in a see-through robe and gown that showed all her delicious curves to advantage.

Was he dreaming?

“Camille?” he asked even as his arms reached for her.

“I’ve decided to be honest with you.”

Her words stopped him cold, something he wouldn’t have believed possible ten seconds earlier.

“I don’t understand.” At least he hoped he didn’t.

“I—I’ve pretended I didn’t care for you. But it’s not true. I love you.”

He tried to speak—he really did. But all that came out was a strangled noise.

She held up her hand, which shifted a few other body parts that held his attention. “Don’t worry. I know you don’t want commitment or—or a future, but I want one night. I want to love you just this once.”

“This once?” he questioned, unable to get out anything else.

“Yes,” she assured him, and moved to press herself against him. Her lips lifted to his as her arms went around his neck. When they touched, the same lightning bolt of feeling surged through him, as it always had.

But before he could go down for the count, so lost in the sensations she stirred in him, her words ran through his mind. Breaking off the kiss was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but he couldn’t—

“Wait!” he ordered as she pressed forward. “Wait, Camille. I don’t—I told you I’m not a family man, like Jake and the others. I don’t want to mislead you.”

She briefly buried her face on his shoulder. Then she bravely looked him in the eye. “I know.”

He tried to slow his body’s response to her touch, but he wasn’t making much progress. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“This is what I want. I want the memory of having loved you when I leave,” she said softly.

He didn’t want to hear that she was leaving, even though he had every intention of doing so. But he wanted to know she was safe and happy here with the Randalls. Why did it matter to him? he asked himself.

And he didn’t like the answer. Camille was different from all the other women in his life. So different that it frightened him. Did he love her? And even if he did, would it make a difference? He’d said he wasn’t cut out for family life, for love, for commitment.

Would he even have a choice once he made love to Camille? And that was the reason panic filled him. He didn’t know the answer to that question.

His body seemed overly sensitive, like a Geiger counter, quivering in response to her touch. Was it already too late? Even now, he couldn’t tell her to go away. His body wouldn’t obey his commands to let her go.

Was it because of the other Randall men’s marriages? Would it make a difference if he’d met Camille in Chicago, without the influence of his cousins? He stared down into her big blue eyes and unconsciously shook his head no.

“No?” she said, tears filling her eyes.

“I didn’t say no,” he returned, holding her tighter.

“You shook your head.”

“I was thinking of something else,” he whispered as his lips descended to hers. He could wait no longer. Self-examination could come later, much later. Already he’d exhausted himself trying to back away from what he desperately wanted. No more discussion.

Pulling her into his room, he closed the door, then wrapped his arms around her, his lips covering hers, devouring them. He’d wanted her since he’d first seen her, the hunger growing with each passing day.

Now she was his.

It wasn’t far to the bed, but by the time they’d reached it, their lips never parting, they had both shed their clothes. Now the sexy covering was gone. All that was left was her satiny skin, her silky hair, her soft lips.

“Cammy,” he whispered as his lips left hers to caress her bare breasts.

Her hands were touching him, and he trembled beneath her fingertips. He’d never experienced such a disturbing reaction to a woman, such a complete domination of his senses. His lips returned to hers as if he hadn’t tasted them in a decade, the hunger growing and growing.

“Griff, love me,” she whispered, urging him on when he needed no urging.

When he entered her, the frenzy increased, making thought impossible. But a sense of fulfillment, of completion seized him, something he’d never experienced before. A coming home that filled a secret need deep within him.

Then sensation took over, and the two of them were locked in a mind-blowing, total consumption that, when it ended, left him exhausted and unable to focus, though there was something very important on the edge of consciousness.

Then he forgot.

CAMILLE HAD TEARS in her eyes.

She hadn’t realized just how breathtakingly beautiful their moments together would be. Or how much the thought of leaving him would hurt.

“Griff, I—I love you,” she whispered, repeating what he didn’t want to hear, unable to hold back those words. His face was buried in her hair, and she waited, scarcely breathing, for him to once again remind her that he wasn’t looking for commitment.

Nothing.

With a sob, she added, “I know you warned me, but I couldn’t help myself. You’re the other part of me that I’ve searched for. If—if you don’t want me, I won’t—I’ll go away, but I wanted you to know.”

When he didn’t move this time, she reached up to those powerful arms and grasped them, giving him a little shove. He shifted off her body slightly, but he said nothing.

“Griff, look, I don’t expect hearts and flowers—” though her heart yearned for them “—but I think you could at least say something.”

He snored.

Her eyes widened in shock. She gave him a mighty shove and half sat up as he rolled off her. How could he? He made shameless, glorious love to her, the most incredible experience in her life, and he was asleep?

“Griff!”

No response, as if he was dead to the world. Another snore assured her he was alive. But even when she shook him, he didn’t wake up.

Then she remembered that he was still in the recuperative stages of chicken pox. He’d gotten up for lunch for the first time in over a week, then gone back to bed for the afternoon.

She must’ve drained any energy he had with their lovemaking. It certainly hadn’t been easy and gentle. More like explosive and—and incredible. But with him still in the throes of chicken pox, she guessed she couldn’t complain at his passing out.

She slipped from the bed and picked up the peignoir set and the panties, folding them neatly, then retrieved her terry-cloth robe from the hall. About to slip into it, she stared at Griff’s sleeping form.

Why should she deny herself the pleasure of staying with him for a while longer? She wanted to share his bed so badly, to hold him against her, to fill her senses with him, knowing that it would be the only time.

It was her father’s insistence that she give it her all that had her dropping the robe and sliding beneath the covers, taking the warm, muscular body of the man she loved into her arms.

He hadn’t heard her last declaration of love.

But he hadn’t rejected her even before. Until he did, hurt her beyond belief, sent her out of his life, she was going to do what her father had said. She wasn’t going to quit.

Amazing how wonderful such gritty advice was, she thought as she snuggled against his broad, hairy chest, rested her forehead against his scratchy chin, felt his soft breath in her hair.