The Marriage Bargain (11 page)

“How many points do I need to get something good?” Julian asked Camille, and then drained his champagne glass.

“Just two more.” She giggled. The liquor kept her from blushing. “So pay attention.”

She laughed and reached for a prawn. Not only did it taste divine, but she needed to put something on her stomach since she wasn’t a big drinker.

“Speaking of debts.” He let the words linger on his tongue.

Camille got the feeling this wasn’t going to be good. Was he going to claim his prize for their bet over Pacifique de Lumière?

“Okay. Okay.” She laughed it off. “I was suitably impressed. You win.” She forced her gaze up to meet his. “So, what’s your reward?”

“Nothing more than the pleasure of your company, Chéri,” he said with a smile that could melt Antarctica.

Damn. This guy was good. If he made a pass, Camille doubted she’d be able to resist.

A smorgasbord of food arrived just in time to keep her from throwing herself at him, and filled all the vacant space on the table.

Julian was invitingly attentive, filling her plate with samples from all the dishes, a variety of lobster, escargot, lamb, duck and filet mignon.

She nibbled on lobster dipped in butter, savoring the sweet, creamy flavors. “So, when exactly are we getting married here?”

“I think the sooner the better,” he said between bites of lamb and steak. “I’d like to send my brother for your friend in a day or two, and then we can have the ceremony at the end of the week.” His sea-green eyes studied her face. “How does that sound?”

She propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. Excuses danced across her mind, none of them viable enough to stick. “Sounds fine.” Not interested in finding a reason to say ‘no’, she turned her focus to the delectable fares. “What’s this?” she asked, pointing to a bowl of small shells in butter sauce. She had ideas about the dish’s identity but refrained from passing judgment.

“Escargot,” he said as if it was no big deal, but there wasn’t any on his plate.

She swallowed hard and tried to push the confirmation out of her head. “I’m not really in to snails.” She took quick short breaths, nausea setting in. “In fact, they’re kind of gross.”

Julian laughed. “My sentiments exactly, Chéri. You’re probably the first person I’ve met who doesn’t enjoy the delicacy.”

Camille giggled. “Care to make a wager on how many people eat these things and actually like them?” She tossed her hair back over her shoulder. “I know a lot of people who wouldn’t touch that stuff with a ten foot pole.” She scooped the shell up between two fingers and inspected it.
Ugh
! Distaste rattled her shoulders.

Julian laughed again, picked up the plate of Escargot and passed it to the attendant waiting near the door. “Please, take this to the kitchen,” he said, with an impersonal nod.

It bothered Camille, the way he talked to the restaurant’s staff. How long before he’d start talking to her that way? She too, after all, was hired help.

C
amille had grown quiet all of a sudden. It bothered Julian when she did that. He didn’t like wondering if he’d done or said something wrong. Her disappointed looks showered him with feelings of inadequacy.

Even so, her hearty appetite was refreshing. Dining with a girl who wasn’t afraid to eat was pleasing. Julian was going to enjoy the next six months.

An attendant cleared away the last of their nearly empty plates.

Julian wondered what else he could do to charm Camille. Of course, she had asked to go for a walk along the beach, but what else would make the occasion special?

The waiter approached the table. “Would the lady care for some dessert?”

Excellent idea. Julian gave Camille a ‘would you?’ look.

“Oh, man.” A smile touched her lips and her features softened. “Would I.”

She perused the menu, and as Julian anticipated, she couldn’t decide on just one, so they ordered an English Trifle and a Chocolate Crème Brulée to go. Julian envisioned a midnight picnic on the beach, complete with sweets and champagne.

He discreetly took care of the bill and they headed outside with their desserts. Camille’s laughter filled the air as they scooted into the limo. He flipped a small refrigerator compartment open and popped the containers inside.

“You still up for that walk on the beach?” he asked, leaning back against the seat.

“You bet I am.” She giggled, smiled and snuggled close to him.

“Great, I know just the place.” Julian hit the intercom and rattled off something in French to the driver.

Instantly, Sebastian navigated the car into the street. Julian glanced at the city lights streaking by as they sped down the roadway. It was a view he’d seen many times, but tonight it seemed better somehow.

Moments later, the car rolled to a stop in a deserted parking lot and Sebastian stepped out and opened the door. Julian rolled out and extended his hand to Camille. Delicate fingers latched onto his and she emerged from the vehicle.

She adjusted the wrap around her shoulders and Julian draped his arm around her, trying to offer her comfort.

“I have a surprise for you.” His voice held a rasp of excitement.

“Really?” She looked at him and flashed an eager smile.

“Yes. I think you’ll be delighted.” He let the mystery linger on his tone as he motioned to the driver.

Sebastian fiddled around in the car for a moment and then followed them with a blanket, the desserts and a bottle of champagne.

“You do this often?” she asked, half in anticipation, half in dread.

“No,” he said sharply, abandoning all pretense. Julian drew a calming breath and comforted his mind. “You said you’d like to go for a walk on the beach, so while we were having dinner Sebastian secured the blanket. I thought you might like to do a little stargazing while we relaxed to the soothing sounds of the sea.”

Julian didn’t blame her for being suspicious of his motives. He would be, too. Most people had an angle. He was no exception. But Camille sure was. He’d have to tread lightly if he wanted to win this prize. And, he prided himself on being an expert in the art of wooing a woman into his bed.

After a few steps, she stopped, used him as a prop and slipped off her shoes. She dangled them in one hand, clung to him with the other and let him lead her forward.

The beach was as deserted as the parking lot, and Julian saw no sense in journeying far. This spot was just as good as any further down. He stopped and made a grand gesture toward the water. “How’s this?” He waited for her answer. “Shall we have our dessert here, do you think?” Getting the lady’s approval was always best. That way, she never felt like she was being backed into a corner.

“Sure. This is great.” She glanced back at the car, a relieved look crossing her face.

Sebastian spread the blanket over the sand in front of them, and Julian removed his jacket and shoes. He laid lengthwise on the edge of the coverlet and patted near him on the blanket.

With a bit of reluctance, she dropped to the ground and readjusted her wrap again. She must be cold. Julian draped his jacket around her and coaxed her back against his torso.

Sebastian readied the desserts and handed plates and a fork to each of them. He popped the top on the champagne and poured two glasses. “Here you are, Miss Camille.”

She took one glass, and Julian the other.

“Will there be anything else, sir?” Sebastian directed the inquiry to Julian.

“No, Sebastian. That’ll be all.”

The driver didn’t hesitate. He backed a few steps away, turned and put his usual twenty feet between them.

“How is your Trifle?” Julian asked, trying the Crème Brulée.

“This is so-o-o-o good.” She made an almost erotic sound. “It ought to be illegal.” Her laughter reached out and wrapped him in a tender desire. He’d never wanted a woman quite so badly. “How’s the chocolate?”

Julian cut a small bite from his dessert and scooped it onto the fork. “Try it.”

She willingly accepted a taste of his treat. Her demeanor pleased him. She was open to his advances, yet independent enough to speak her mind. Like with the snails at dinner.

Thanks to Camille, Julian now knew he didn’t want a ‘yes woman’ in his life. Still, he’d appreciate one who followed his lead once in a while.

“Oh, man...that’s awesome,” she said, pointing her fork at Julian’s plate. “Here, try this.” She scooped the trifle onto her fork and fed him.

He let the food melt in his mouth, savoring the sweet flavors.

“Isn’t that great?” she asked with a lingering smile.

“Wonderful.” He stared at Camille. She was an absolute treasure.

Julian drew a deep breath and reminded himself of what they were doing. Pretending. Pretending to be in love so he could keep his freedom. He had to remember to act the part but not feel it. How did she do it? She looked totally enamored with him. Why wasn’t she some big-name actress making twenty million a film?

Camille sipped the champagne and studied at him with her intense blue eyes. “So, you’re going to send your brother for Tasha soon?”

“Yes. I think tomorrow.” He checked his watch. Nine o’clock. It was probably about noon or so in L.A. “You should give her a call later.”

“I will.”

“How about your parents?” Julian set his plate on the ground. She did the same. “Should we invite them over?”

Her response was a resounding headshake. Why didn’t she want her parents there? Because it wasn’t real.

“It would look more authentic if they were to attend.” The urge to caress her face overwhelmed Julian. “Besides...they’d forgive you, if it involved a trip to Europe, wouldn’t they?” Julian threw imperatives at her disguised as choices, hoping to distract her while he let his desires get the better of him. Her skin was soft. So soft.

She stiffened and inched back. He didn’t like that.

“Chéri...?” He reached out to her, risking touching her again. Risking being rejected. Again.

Camille shook her head and turned so slowly toward Julian that she seemed to be running out of steam—or hesitating. The latter was most likely the case since she avoided looking at him. “I don’t have any parents.” Her voice broke, and splintered Julian’s soul.

“I’m sorry, Chéri.” Julian paused, feeling a chip had been taken from his heart. “Your parents have passed away?”

“I’m afraid it’s worse than that.” She broke into a bitter laugh that Julian was eerily familiar with. It was the same laughter he and Andre had often used when they were trying to cover the pain of their real mother’s demise.

“My father, and I use that term loosely.” Camille dragged Julian away from his bitter memories. “Dear old Dad took off when he found out my mother was pregnant.” Her unforgiving tone filled him with sorrow. “Never heard from him. Never met him.” She avoided looking at him. “My mother...and I use that term just as loosely...the only difference was, she took the trouble to actually let me be born, rather than taking the easy route and opting for an abortion.” Her body jerked, with tears bathing her eyes. He suspected her grief was well on its way to escaping, and that saddened Julian. “Mommy dearest didn’t bother sticking around afterwards, though.” Camille’s empty gaze finally met Julian’s. “I wasn’t worth the time and trouble.”

The near-full moon cast a glow over Camille, emphasizing her mouth as it tightened and a tear spilled down her cheek.

Julian skimmed a hand up her arm and nudged her closer. Sitting up, he pulled her to him. “Chéri...you are definitely worth the time and
effort
.”

Camille was anything but trouble, and absolutely worth the effort.

She let the tears pour, and he tightened his embrace. Her head moved until their faces met. Their lips brushed, accidentally, and desire swept through Julian. He wanted, needed to shower her with kisses. To comfort her, to let her know just how much she was wanted and needed.

Camille welcomed his overtures with warm, inviting enthusiasm. Their lips met again, their tongues danced, their hunger ignited.

And then, like a bad dream, she let out a disapproving groan, broke the kiss and backed away. Avoiding eye contact, she said, “I’m sorry, Julian. I didn’t mean to...” She sprang up and moved toward the surf.

Julian followed her to the warm, soothing water’s edge. “Chéri.” He struggled with the urge to touch her. Embrace her. Comfort her.

But the girl was truly troubled, and he couldn’t in good conscience take advantage of that. Nor did he want her thinking she’d have to spend the next six months enduring unwanted sexual overtures from him. He needed a wife. One that was temporary and make believe. He needed Camille.

“It was just a heat of the moment kind of thing on both our parts. No worries.” He tried to sound reassuring and unaffected. “And besides, if Papa’s watching...and he probably is...our kiss, however impromptu, was a good thing.”

Julian smiled, kissed her forehead and drew her back into his arms, having found the perfect excuse.

Papa was watching
.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Camille awakened to bright sunshine and the chaos of loud voices filtering in from Julian’s adjoining room. Although muffled, she was able to identify the voices and their words.

“Julian, how could you do that to your father?” a woman said. Camille thought it might be Claudette.

“How could I do that to him? How could he do this to me?” If Julian’s tone was any judge, he wasn’t holding back, even though it might have been the gentlemanly thing to do.

Camille shoved aside her fledgling concern over his insensitivity.

“What exactly has Maurice done to you? Except provide you with a caring and stable home?” Her scolding tone was just as passionate as Julian’s. “Let’s not forget the birthright your father’s built for you. A legacy that most of Europe envies
.
”

Julian’s laughter traveled through the walls but nothing about it indicated amusement. “The whole of Europe might not envy me quite so much if they were privy to the strings that come attached to father’s legacy.”