Page 50 of Sand in My Boots

Very PC, Juli.

I expect some pushback from him. I was the one who dragged him here. He would have been happy to stay in the bubble of my suite. The only reason I left is because I feel bad. I’m here to hang out and celebrate with Erica, and I’ve barely seen her. Granted, she’s been busy with wedding things I’m not involved in, which helps, but guilt nibbles at me.

“Haven’t heard you complain once about my parts.”

His quip elicits a smile. “Damn you. That was a good one.”

“Thanks. I’m here all week. But for real. If it’s only women, I’ll make myself scarce,” he follows it up with, his tone more solemn. “How long do you think you’ll be?”

“A few hours at minimum.”

“What are the odds you’ll be sober when you’re through?”

I contemplate his question. I want to have dinner with Preston, and there’s no way I can show up tipsy for that. The bastard’s trying extremely hard to blow me off, and I’m pissed. Not a good combination when I’m catching up with old friends at the pool on vacation.

“I have no good answer for you.” We’ve reached the area where my friends congregate, one chair cleared for me. As suspected, it’s a statement—no guys allowed. “Hey.” I address Naomi first, waiting until she stands for a proper hug. “Get up here,” I bellow when she doesn’t take the hint.

“Jeez, girl. What if I don’t want to hug you?”

“You’ve got no choice.” She finally stands, wrapping her arms around me. She’s always stood much taller than me. “I miss you.”

“We talk all the time.”

She’s not wrong. If we don’t chat daily, it’s at least every other day. She’s still one of my best—and favorite—authors. And not because we are so comfortable working together by now. Because she was my friend first, and neither of us is afraid to tell the other one the truth about something.

“You owe me drinks. At least three. I’ve come to collect.”

Pulling out of my arms, she spots Cameron. “Who’s the fine piece of ass you brought with you to a girls’ only pool party?”

How did I miss the “girls’ only” memo?

Cameron.

“Hi, Cameron Fairbanks. Good to meet you. Juli here has told me all about how she discovered her hidden talents for indie authors.” His statement insinuates so much, shit he doesn’t know about, but what gets me is the way he’s retained what I’ve told him this week. His listening skills are on par, something I’ll have to reward him for later tonight in the bedroom.

Naomi takes his outstretched hand, giving it a hearty shake. “Naomi Whitmore. I know nothing about you. Where’s Juli been hiding you?”

“Woman’s got me on a short leash. She likes to keep me all to herself. I’m on parole for good behavior. Though my liberation seems to be short-lived. I’ll meet you back in the suite tonight, shortcake?”

The man is so freaking smooth, such a freaking charmer. And I’m so under his spell, disoriented in a Cameron-induced fog.

“Huh?” is all I can manage.

“No worries. You can make it up to me later. Did you find the key to the handcuffs?”

Oh.

My.

God.

I thought my face was red earlier? Nope. Color me vermilion.

“Cameron,” I hiss under my breath. It’s mostly for show. Sure, it’s embarrassing, but it’s also hot as fuck. And the man knows it all too well.

“Right. I’ll take my leave now.” He bends down, his mouth finding my ear. “Too far? Sorry, not sorry. Text me when you’re done, and we’ll figure out the plan for later.” He pauses a minute, then continues, “I don’t have anything else to say, but I want them to think I do. Pretend I’m saying something funny. Or sexy. Or downright dirty.”

The more he speaks in my ear, the more turned-on I become, and the more I’m afraid it shows on my face. Part of me doesn’t want him to stop, but the part that wins out is the one who gripes, “Enough. I like it too much, if you know what I mean.” I extricate myself from his reach, but not before smacking my lips to his, temporarily forgetting where I am, who he is, and who is watching. But in this moment, I’m lost to him, and he belongs to me. And damn it, if I want to kiss the man, I will.