Seductive Secrecy (Shadows series) (10 page)

I didn’t have to look at the tag on the dress or check the size of the shoes to know they were going to fit. Cameron was meticulous to a fault. It was how I knew that whatever he had planned tonight was
going to be special. And I was impressed so far. The dress was
stunning,
with its open top so revealing. Something told me that was the
primary reason he’d picked it.

I only wore dresses like this to art events; I preferred more
professional pieces that were elegant without being overly revealing. I still relied more on accessories rather than the clothes themselves to make a statement; that hadn’t changed since my younger years or while I’d been working at the mansion. But the accessories I now
wore were no longer second hand, and neither were my outfits.
Their labels were becoming more recognizable.

The glowing of the clock from Cameron’s nightstand caught my attention. It told me that I only had an hour and a half before I had to meet him downstairs. I left the dress and the shoes on the bed and rushed into the bathroom, yanking off everything that covered my body and turned on the shower to one of the hottest settings.

***

Standing in front of the mirror, I brushed my fingers under my eyes, picking up any of the loose powder that had fallen from my lids. I was wearing much more makeup than I usually did. I spent extra time on my eyes since I believed they were my best feature. I’d thickened the liner and extended my lashes with a second layer of mascara. I’d straightened my hair and curled my long chocolate locks around an iron to give them some wave. I hadn’t been this done up and polished in a while—certainly not for any art events I’d attended recently. The last time had been…at the mansion, actually. But this time, it was for a different reason, and a legitimate one: It was for the man I cared about.

With only five minutes left until I had to meet Cameron, I
walked out of the bathroom and moved over to our bed, slipping my feet
into the high heels. I wrapped a jacket around me and took the
elevator
downstairs. As I walked into the lobby, Larry, our doorman, greeted
me.

“Good evening, Miss Charlie,” he said. “You look extra-lovely tonight.”

Larry had been working in the building long before Cameron had moved in. He knew everyone by name. I’d only had to tell him mine once. He had never forgotten it.

“Thank you, Larry. It’s nice to see you.” I gave the same sincere
smile that came to my face every time I saw him. There was
something about his personality that triggered happiness. I enjoyed being in his presence. “I’m supposed to be meeting Cameron down here. Have you seen him?”

“Follow me, please.” He extended his arm out to me, and I
latched my hands around it before he escorted me through the door and to the curb where a black limo was waiting.

Just like the mansion...again.

Larry opened the door to the backseat and held my hand as I
ducked inside; Cameron was seated on the opposite end.  He
gripped
my free hand, assisting me until I was safely tucked in. It wasn’t
entirely a surprise; part of me had expected this to be his ride of choice for the evening.

“Have a wonderful night, Mr. Cameron, Miss Charlie,” Larry
said just before he shut the door.

“You look gorgeous,” Cameron said, leaning in to kiss my cheek. I thanked him for both gifts and he responded by giving me a second kiss. I closed my eyes and took in the scent of him. I smelled his cologne every day; I never grew tired of it. It was a combination of spicy mist and the scent of rain. Those notes mixed with our body wash and fabric softener. But they smelled different on his skin than they did on mine. They were more masculine, more enticing.

I opened my eyes. “You haven’t even seen me in the dress yet.”

The jacket I wore came to my knees. The only things he could see
were my bare legs, and how the heels looked on my feet. He may
have glanced at both, but his stare hadn’t lingered long if so. I never felt his eyes leave mine.

“I don’t need to,” he said.

I wondered if he’d notice that I had taken extra time on my hair and makeup. I knew he did
that was just Cameron
but something told me those preparations didn’t matter to him. Despite all the sexy outfits I had worn in our bedroom, he touched me in just the same
way when I was wearing unmatched clothes and I was covered in
paint.

“Where are we going?” I asked as the driver pulled away from the curb. Our building rushed by my window.

“It’s a surprise.”

“No hints
?”

His mouth found mine before I could finish, landing softly at first, teasing the outside of my lips. He ran his tongue between them and gently inserted it. The kiss changed when I felt an urgency and
desire pump through his body, electrifying his movements. He
yanked
me toward him as close as he could get me. As quickly as he’d
hauled me to him, he released my face, my mouth, and pulled away. His hand was the only thing that lingered. It fell into my lap, clasping my fingers.

“I just needed a quick taste of you,” he said, skimming his
thumb over his bottom lip to wipe the sticky gloss that now shined on his
mouth. “But to answer you: no…no hints. Tonight is going to be
layered. This is just one of the many.”

“What if I told you I was missing a layer?”

It seemed like a good time to tease him about my lack of
undergarments. He hadn’t left any for me in the box, and the dress made wearing a bra impossible.

“Which one would that be?”

It was early. I still had plenty of time to taunt him.

“One that belongs on my body.”

His other hand returned and two of his fingers caressed my cheek, starting at my ear and traveling all the way to chin. “Are you going to show me?”

“No. It’s a surprise.”

He laughed at that…but not as much as I wanted him to. That wasn’t something about him I would have changed: I enjoyed his serious side as much as I enjoyed the moments when he was carefree. I just didn’t want his darkness to be the reason he didn’t laugh often. I believed it was.

“I’m not a fan of surprises, Charlie.”

I knew this about him already. So I squeezed the fingers that were still in my lap, giving him the reassurance he needed. “You’re going to love this one.”

His lips spread into a small grin. He turned and faced the
window, squinting and leaning to determine our location and how far we were from our destination. The absence of his eyes finally gave me a chance to check out what he was wearing: A long black pea coat covered his upper half; a gray scarf followed, trailing down toward a pair of dark trousers. He’d gotten a haircut; it was neater and shorter than it had been this morning. The sides were buzzed close to his scalp and the top was left just a little longer, with the strands gelled. I was happy he had left his facial hair alone. I always asked him not to shave; the rough masculine feel and look of his scruff made him even sexier. Cameron was my seductive secret, and there wasn’t anything about him that wasn’t arousing, but this in particular I enjoyed…the way it prickled the inside of my thighs and how it felt against my smooth, hairless folds.

When he glanced back at me, he caught me staring at him, gazing longingly. I blushed, though it was too dark inside the limo for him to notice.

“We’re almost there,” he whispered.

I leaned back into my seat, but I was able to relax for only a few blocks before the limo came to a stop. Cameron moved around me
when the driver opened the door so he could exit first. Then he
reached for my hand, helping me out onto the sidewalk. My eyes did a quick
scan, and I knew exactly where we were: outside of Smoke, one of
the most popular galleries in the city, and I had been here several times before. My work hadn’t, though.

“I thought we’d start with an exhibit,” he said. “One I know you’re going to like.”

“I already like where I am…and who I’m with.”

“Then it only gets more perfect from here.”

Cameron’s hand found my waist, gently guiding me to him as
we moved to the main entrance. We hadn’t pulled up directly in
front of the building, more to the side, as a swarm of people were huddled
outside the double doors. A red carpet had been set up and photographers
were snapping pictures of the guests in attendance. It wasn’t all that
uncommon for major events.  The photos were always printed in the entertainment section of the
Boston Globe
the next day, as well as in the artsy and indie papers throughout the city.

“Are you ready to do this?” he asked.

I didn’t realize I had stopped walking until he’d said that. Then
suddenly the implications hit me: if we had our picture taken
together
it would confirm that we were in a relationship, putting all the
rumors that had been floating around town to rest. That was obviously what Cameron wanted. I did, too. It wasn’t that we’d been trying to hide our status; we just hadn’t thought it was anyone else’s business.

Should it be their business now?

When I worked at the mansion, I had always been so careful about having my picture snapped. I didn’t want a client to see me outside the house and recognize anything about me— not my voice, or my mouth, or the markings on my body or the tattoos on my hand. I looked at it again. In the middle of my pinky finger, between the folds of my knuckles, was the inked outline of a pink heart. The date of the accident—the one that had taken my Emma from me—was directly above it. I didn’t think I had to worry about anyone recognizing anything anymore; more than seven months had passed since any of those clients had been alone with me, and none of my details were all that memorable. I just didn’t want to be targeted as a victim who had survived and my name to be printed for any reason other than art.

Cameron stood a few paces in front of me, holding out his hand for me to grab. His beautiful eyes beckoned me.

Emma’s voice spoke in my head yet again.

This is okay.

I exhaled. “I’m ready,” I said.

Cameron led me down the short sidewalk and around the crowd of observers. There were several security guards standing at the start of the red carpet. Once they noticed Cameron, they unlatched the rope, allowing us to enter. He squeezed my hand during our walk down the carpet and as we neared the top we paused for pictures.

“How did you make this happen?” I asked. Cameron was a fixture on the art scene, but something about this event said it was more than just a regular opening.

“An invitation showed up at the studio.” He leaned in and
kissed my ear. “Being a celebrity has its advantages.”

It made me smile, just as flashes of white light flickered before my eyes. My name was being called as much as Cameron’s was—for
us to face a certain direction, a specific angle, to stand closer
together. There was a change in the air, an intensity, a buzzing that I hadn’t quite felt before. It didn’t just come from standing beside the man who I was now claiming as mine for the world to see, or from the sexuality that oozed from his body, even more so now that he was in
the spotlight. It also came from the notion of these photographers
knowing who I was…and then telling the rest of Boston about it in the morning.