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“Miss Cameron, it’s wonderful to finally meet you in person,” she said, her voice glowing.
“A pleasure. You’re taller in person.”
“That’s my mother you’re looking for. She’s barely five foot. I don’t know how I happened. Miss Cameron—”
“Please, just Cameron is fine.”
Juan gestured me towards the pier. “I’m thinking that’s your cue.”
“If this goes badly, can you stage an accident and drown me?”
“Would love to help, but María wouldn’t hire me anymore if I did.”
He made a valid point. With a sinking feeling in my gut, I steadied myself and repeated in my head I’m a professional, I know what I’m doing, and this is going to be like any other time, and I stepped out of the cabin and into the evening warmth and golden-red sunset light that spilled over the bay, and I leaned over the railing to where Cameron Mercier, in the flesh, stood there at the edge of the dock with María.
Thank god, Amelie wasn’t here. Cameron herself was still deadly intimidating, though—she was a stunning woman with a chic choppy blonde bob and brilliant blue eyes, and she exuded that kind of intense self-assuredness that made it feel obvious to fall in line with her. With a crisp white suit and low heels, she was right in the cross-section of high fashion and a power look, and I just prayed my look was up to snuff.
“Ah, finally, she shows herself,” María said, looking back at me. “Cameron, I’ve taken the liberty of assigning my best agent to your case, but just don’t tell the other agents I said that, all right? This is London Sinclair.”
Cameron looked at me, and she tensed, her throat muscles tightening so much I could see it from here. A cold panic rushed through me, making my ears ring.
There was no explanation for that kind of reaction. Not unless Amelie had told her about me. But—why? It didn’t make any sense.
Not unless… I’d been trying to scout out Amelie there for recon, buttering her up. But Cameron Mercier was a smart woman. And maybe we’d had our own tactics turned against us. If Amelie had been there specifically to draw me in—and if that was why she flagged me down, why she came onto me so hard—
I had to pray I just looked a lot like someone Cameron hated. Otherwise, we were all royally screwed.
“Miss Mercier,” I said, opening the gate and offering her a handshake from the side of the yacht. “It’s an honor to meet you. You can call me London.”
“Charmed…” She ignored my outstretched hand. I was dead in the water.
I shut down the panic voices screeching in my head. I hadn’t done anything wrong. I felt chemistry with a woman in a bar. I hadn’t even given any clues that I knew she was connected to Cameron. All Amelie could have gotten from me was the way I flirted, and there was nothing wrong with being attracted to someone flirting with me. This would only be a problem if I made it a problem. If I acted like everything was fine, she’d relax. I had this. I was a professional.
I smiled, turning my handshake offer into a gesture along the yacht. “I hope you don’t get seasick, Miss Mercier? We’ll be taking a ride across to Miami Beach to get to the property, and María took the leisure of providing a meal and some champagne for the trip. If it’s no problem with you, I’d love to sit and discuss more of what you’re looking for in your new home.”
She studied me for a second before her expression flared—not in the way I’d been afraid of, but into a dangerous smile, eyes narrowed. “Could I really live in Miami if I were prone to seasickness?” she said, relaxing her shoulders a little.
“Touché.” I offered her my hand again. “Shall we?”
She grasped my wrist firmly, and I held onto hers, helping her onto the boat. María gave me an acknowledging nod, raising her voice as the wind picked up, tossing the taste of the ocean across my lips.
“If you need anything, have any questions at all,” she said, “London will be happy to assist you. Of course—I’m available as well, but I have to be honest, London is quite a bit smarter than I am, so you’re better off asking her.”
She was flattering me. Or more likely, she just didn’t want Cameron bothering her while she was working.
We pulled slowly away from the pier—Juan took it gently, thank god—and Cameron cast her eyes past me, out to the ocean. My heart still hammering, I gestured her to the steps.
“Join me up top?”
“Gladly.”
There was something dangerous I couldn’t read in her tone, and I had no idea what was going on, but—it made my heart race. My throat felt tight, and I had a hard time breathing. I forced myself to steady, reminding myself I knew what I was doing, but it felt more uncertain than ever.
Maybe everything Amelie had said had thrown me off. Maybe now I was questioning too much if I was supposed to be a good girl or not.
I led Cameron up to the top deck, where I showed her to a seat at the rear, and I sat next to her, straightening as the yacht attendant came out of the cabin right on cue, bringing us champagne flutes and two small plates of appetizers. He disappeared again with nothing more than an enjoy yourselves, and I returned my attention to Cameron, who picked up her champagne flute, holding it delicately as she looked out to the ocean opening up before us, golden-red sunset spilling out across the water.
“You spared no expense with impressing me, I see,” she said. She had that air around her that I’d seen on a good number of people—the ones who didn’t want the typical customer-service face. I relaxed.
