Hot Commodity (18 page)

"And good riddance to you too," Cameron murmured.

Olivia shook so hard she couldn’t even breathe. She slipped from Cameron’s grasp and backed away from him, her mouth moving though no words came out. He tugged the toga off his shoulders and stepped into a pair of briefs. After slipping them up over his hips and snapping them into place, he glanced her way.

Olivia couldn’t maintain her composure any longer. She crumbled. Right to the floor.

Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh God.
 
She began to hyperventilate.

"Livy?" Cameron’s voice came from a great distance. But when she looked up, he was moving closer instead of farther away. He grasped her shoulder and pulled her up, looking concerned.

"Olivia," he said softly, sitting her gently on the edge of the mattress. "Just relax, okay?" Gentle fingers cupped her cheek; she wanted to close her eyes and sink into his warm comfort.

But she shook her head instead. "You...Oh, God, Cameron. You have no idea. You just...Oh God."

He dropped his hand and quickly reached for his pants, yanking them on. "What?" he said softly, sitting next to her and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. "Did you want to go with them after all? That’s okay, you know. I’m sure you can still catch your mom."

She shook her head emphatically.

He smiled as if satisfied. "Okay, then," he answered. "Let’s pack, and I’ll take you wherever it is you’re going and…" He paused and eyed her quizzically. "Where
do
you want to go?"

She looked up. "If I had somewhere else to go, I would’ve gone there a long time ago," she cried out, her voice an octave higher than usual.

He placed his hot palms on her temples, burying his fingers in her hair. "Don’t panic," he instructed softly. "Everything will be okay. I’ve got plenty of guest bedrooms at my place. We’ll just fly to Cali, pick up your things, and then you can—" He broke off when she shook her head.

"All my things are gone," she murmured almost to herself. "She’ll never let me go back to get them. I don’t have anything now, except what’s here in this room. I don’t have any money. She’ll freeze all my accounts and credit cards and close my savings. I don’t have anywhere to go. I don’t…"

Her voice broke. A tear wavered at the corner of her eye and she realized she was on the edge of a panic attack.

Cameron leaned forward and kissed her tear, licking it away with his tongue. "Olivia," he whispered. "Listen to me, okay? I put you in this position, so I will help you get out of it. We’ll go home to Kansas City until the Bos-man can work on those annulment papers. Once they’re all filed and done, I’ll help you start your life; I’ll help you find a job, go to school, whatever you want to do. Okay? Nod your head, Livy. Tell me that’s what you want to do."

Olivia shook her head from side to side instead of up and down. "No,

you don’t want to help me anymore than you already did. She’s mad enough at you. You don’t want her for an enemy, Cameron. She’s going to come after you now. She’s going to—"

"Shh," he crooned and pulled her tight against his chest. "Why don’t you let me worry about me. Let’s focus on you right now."

 
"But why would you want to help me?" she said, pushing him back to meet his eyes. "I tricked you into marriage. What do you want from me? You don’t even know me. There’s no way you’ll just bring home some stranger and start throwing money at her, promising her you’ll hand her a new life, completely free of charge."

Cameron dropped his hands from her as if shocked. "You’re right," he finally said. "I don’t know you. But I do know you just stood up to a woman you’re deathly afraid of, and you got away from her. That kind of shit impresses me. Besides, I caused a majority of this to happen, so I feel pretty responsible for you right now. Plus, there’s also the fact we’re married and that makes us a team for the time being. Not to mention, you’re amazing in bed and I’d like to stay on your good side in the hopes you’ll let me sleep with you again."

Hearing that last remark, Olivia snorted and turned away from him, starting to pack. "I agree," she said with her back to him and she stuffed clothes into her case. "This is your fault. If you’d just left me alone last night, none of this would’ve happened."

"Yeah, well, what did you want me to do?" Cameron said in self-defense. He pushed to his feet and scowled. "Keep our marriage a secret and let the crazy broad come after me with a shotgun? No thanks."

Olivia turned and glared at him. "How about you not following me to my room in the first place and coaxing me into bed, huh? Maybe not doing that would’ve prevented this."

Cameron grinned, his frown gone as fast as it had come. "Maybe," he agreed. "But in my opinion, it was worth it."

Still upset with him, Olivia ground her teeth in frustration and finished her packing.

She was going home with Cameron Banks, the man she’d married, the man her mother had commanded her to marry. And yet, now she was free of Vivian Helbrock-Donovan-Roark.

Free.

It was so exhilarating and frightening she sat down on the bed to steady her nerves as Cameron finished dressing.

Ten

Kansas City

By nine that evening, Olivia and Cameron arrived in Kansas City. She had one travel bag with her, full of all the possessions she had left in the world. She followed her new husband up the front walk into his sprawling mansion and stopped just inside the doorway, her fingers clutched around her suitcase handle.

Cameron tossed his keys on an end table and tugged a cell phone from his pocket.

"I have to make a quick call," he said, glancing her way even as he moved toward a doorway leading to another room. "This will only take a minute."

Olivia swallowed, wondering who he had to talk to so urgently. Probably some girlfriend, advising her not to come over tonight.

Jealousy thickened in her lungs, making it hard to breathe, making her follow him to the doorway and peek in.

With his back to her, he paced the sitting room. After a moment of holding his phone to his ear, he finally spoke. "Hello…? Grandma?"

Grandma? Olivia mouthed the word, her eyebrows puckering in confusion. He was in a hurry to call his grandmother? No way. It must be some kind of code language. Grandma was probably short for
Hey, baby, can’t talk right now. Super secret spy stuff going on.

Olivia rolled her eyes.

"It’s Cameron," he said and, after a moment, lifted his voice, repeating, "It’s Cameron."

Okay, so maybe his girlfriend was hard of hearing. Either that or he really was talking to an elderly deaf woman.

A smile was clear in his voice when he added, "Yeah, it’s Sunday already. I can’t talk long though, I have a guest...What’s that? Oh, don’t you even worry about it, Grandma. I love calling you. No bother at all...Yes. Uh huh." After a second of listening, he threw back his head and laughed. "You naughty old woman, you. You’re going to ruin my innocent ears if you keep that up."

Curious, Olivia found herself moving forward to listen openly. He was really talking to his grandmother, wasn’t he? How bizarre.

"No, wait! Don’t hang up yet. I wanted to tell you…"

Holding her breath, she wondered if he was going to announce his marriage or something. God, she hoped not. He’d give poor Grandma a heart attack.

"I have another spoon for you to put in your collection. What? Oh, this one’s from Chicago...Yeah, I know I already brought you one from Chicago, but that was in honor of the Sears Tower. This one is for the city in general… Oh, that’ll do then, will it?" he murmured, like he was repeating what she’d just said. Turning so Olivia could see his face, he grinned and added, "Good. I was worried you’d shove it back in my face." Though he didn’t sound worried.

Olivia must’ve breathed aloud because his eyes snapped her way. They both froze.

"I have to go, Grandma," he said into the phone. "Yes, I’ll call next Sunday. I love you too. Bye." Never taking his eyes off Olivia, he snapped the phone closed.

He and Olivia took a few seconds to stare at each other, both leery.

"That…" he cleared his throat, looking suddenly rueful. "That was my grandmother. She’s been a widow for a few years now and gets lonely. So, I, uh, I make sure to call every so often."

Olivia wondered what kind of man this was who took time out of his life to call a lonely old woman every week, just to flirt with her. Her chest felt very tight.

Cameron glanced away, looking awkward, as if he were embarrassed. "Anyway," he murmured under his breath. "Who needs a drink?" He didn’t look at her again as he strolled to a nearby shelf lined with books.

He’d barely talked to her the entire day, and Olivia was fast learning she’d married herself a moody man. He could go from one extreme to the next. One moment, he was grinning and cracking jokes like a comedian. The next, he was quiet and withdrawn, wrapped up in some inner demon that made her wonder what could put that haunted look in his eyes.

Olivia figured the mood swings were why he was so successful. Growing up with Vivian as her mother, she’d met dozens of millionaires and discovered they all possessed quirky personalities. It must be a trait common among the insane masterminds. Next thing she knew, Cameron Banks would probably pull a Van Gogh and cut off his ear or something.

She had to admit, however, even at his nastiest, he had an innate

kindness. He could never in a hundred years be what Vivian was. His sour side didn’t seem to come naturally. It was like he forced himself to be rude, as if some emotional struggle was taking place in him, making him guilty about every smile he revealed, so he had to counter it with a snarl.

Apprehension attacked every nerve ending she possessed. Everything felt new and foreign. She was a long way from California, hundreds and hundreds of miles from the only home she’d ever known.

Ignoring her, Cameron rummaged through the books on the shelf until he came to one thick dictionary. But he didn’t seem interested in reading. Instead, he tugged it out of his way and reached into the open gap to extract a glass decanter filled with amber liquid.

Olivia rolled her eyes. Letting go of her suitcase handle, she strode toward him and jerked the container from his hand as soon as he’d taken his first swig.

"Don’t drink that!"

Wiping a drip that dribbled down his chin, he frowned. "Why not?"

Yeah, why not?

"Because…" Olivia sighed in irritation. She didn’t want him to think she was actually worried about him. She had a feeling he’d make fun of her if she showed him any tenderness. But, honestly, she didn’t want him to suffer any more. Despite how easily he could get her back up—not to mention how easily he got her back down on a bed—she was in his debt. He’d successfully removed her from Vivian’s life. The kind of gratitude that act inspired made her want to save him from himself.

"Horrible things happen to me every time you drink," she said, instead of revealing her compassion. "First, I ended up marrying just the man I wanted to avoid. Then, the next time I ran into you while you were drunk, my mother found out about everything and I lost the only home I’ve ever known. And now, I’m stuck here, clear across the country, doing God knows what with my life. I’m telling you, Bud, that’s not a very good track record."

"Maybe it’s just plain old me that’s bad luck for you," he suggested with a careless shrug.

He reached out to take the bottle from her but she held it away from him.

"You didn’t drink a drop all the way here from the hotel this morning," she said primly. "And no pianos have fallen on me yet, so I’ve concluded it’s the alcohol. Besides, I thought you were a recovering—"