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“I’m still going to be thinking about it,” she murmured, and it sent aching heat through my body.
“I—”
“Back to being good girls for both of us,” she whispered. “But don’t you dare forget. The next time I see you, Cara… I want you.”
There was no use trying to get out from under her spell. She had me completely wrapped around her finger, and I ached for her—suddenly counting down the days until I might see her again.
“Me too,” I whispered. “I’ll… I’ll wear my best for next time.”
“So will I. I can’t wait to show you.”
And she kissed me. Just like that—she leaned in and kissed me squarely on the lips, a more loaded and passionate kiss than anything I could remember in my life right now, the scent of her perfume flooding my senses and leaving me spinning, the touch of her lips on mine like—like—like my consciousness melted away until there was nothing left but her.
She pulled away too soon, standing up, and then she was gone. I sank against the table, staring down at my shaking hands.
Chapter 4
I did exactly as I was supposed to, and I thought about her.
I stayed home from work on Monday, doing the important work of shopping at a Cameron Mercier outlet store. It felt surreal heading up to the small place, black-and-pink stylings with brocade and script letters reading Cameron Mercier over the door, knowing Cameron Mercier was the name of a real person I was going to meet tomorrow and—more than that—that I’d kissed her assistant in a club. And very nearly had sex with her.
And being in the store was hardly going to take my thoughts off of Amelie. The whole place smelled a little like her perfume, too—floral and subtly woody, dark and mature and elegant. The front of the store was all decent displays, but it just took stepping behind the first rack to see the displays of lingerie, mannequins dressed up and arranged in provocative poses.
I’d come here to do research before meeting the client. Going to meet Cameron Mercier herself without even owning a single piece of Cameron Mercier lingerie was a sin. But there was another reason I needed a set, a reason I wasn’t acknowledging.
Amelie had promised to wear her best, too. I could only imagine Cameron Mercier’s personal assistant had an… impressive lingerie collection. And it gave me shudders down to my core just thinking about it.
I’d spent all morning researching everything I could about Cameron Mercier, the person and the brand, and about lingerie in general. And I’d found myself blushing at my computer like I was a teenager, picking out a lot of… well, styles that I liked. And things I was deathly curious to know if they suited me.
My heart in my mouth, I dared to run a hand over the fabric of the lace bra I’d stopped in front of—impossibly soft, silky, delicate. And I wondered what Amelie would look like in it.
Dammit. I was having problems. And they didn’t get any better after I’d finally bought a set, gotten home, and with a nervous tangle in my gut, changed into them, staring at myself in the full-length mirror in my bedroom.
I’d never in my life thought to wear lingerie before. I think I’d kind of just dismissed it as something guys made their girlfriends wear. But I really liked the way I looked in these—a tidy balconette bra with elegant lace cups and slim panties with an intricate garter belt that took me a while to figure out how to hook it to the stockings, but it was… rewarding.
At the sound of Earl scratching at the door, I felt my face burn, and I stripped myself out of the lingerie, changing back into my real clothes as quickly as possible, hiding the lingerie like it was a dirty secret.
It was just for research. Just research on the client.
And I’d have to pray I wasn’t seeing Amelie tomorrow.
∞∞∞
“Juan, have I told you that you look great today?”
He gave me a sarcastic smile. “Tell me what you want, acere. You try to butter me up and I get mad.”
I sank against the cabin doorway, the yacht slowly bobbing in the waves around me. “Just to make sure this is the smoothest damn ride you’ve ever given anyone.”
“Nervous?” Juan—the boat driver who always helped us when we went to our boat rental of choice—craned his neck back to me. “Doesn’t suit you, London.”
“This is Cameron Mercier we’re meeting today. I’m a little intimidated.”
“Just remember, acere, she’s asking you for help. With something you know how to do. No easier thing than that. Just do it like you’d do for anyone else.”
“Yeah, it’s one thing to say that, but I’ll be damned, Juan, we’re pulling out stops I didn’t even know we had. I mean—” I gestured above us. “A meal by sunset on a yacht? Adam Garcia didn’t get that.”
“It’s your taste of the high life, then. Enjoy it. Ah, you kids always want to find something to complain about.” He turned back to the controls, and just as well—I stopped complaining just in time to hear footsteps striking down the wood planks of the pier, and I heard María’s voice calling to her.
