One Wrong Move (24 page)

Nothing. What was wrong with him? She was cute. She wore a little too much makeup, and her hair color was all wrong for her complexion, but at any other time he’d be happy to oblige her.

He took a step away. “It was great to meet you. Can you tell Dare I’ll see him tomorrow?”

Cue the lower lip pout. Not even remotely sexy. “If you leave, what will I do?”

“Oh, there’re plenty of men here who’d love to…” He didn’t finish. He couldn’t. There were plenty of men who would love to, he just wasn’t one of them.

She placed a hand on her waist and thrust her hip to the side. “You’re not gay, are you?”

He stifled a chuckle. Shit, that would have been a great excuse if Darrell hadn’t known him so well.

“No.”

“Good.” She slid her hands up his chest. “How about I come home with you?”

He politely removed her hands. “Not this time.”

***

Rayma

Gathering in the kitchen was a nightly ritual for the agents. After Camden’s late hours, he would tell them the details of his day but today, Rayma planned to be gone by the time he came home. She didn’t want to see him.

He came home earlier than expected, and her heart dipped.

“What the fuck were you doing at La Grange tonight?” Camden asked Lacey.

“Dare invited me. I can’t make him any more suspicious of me than he already is, can I?” Lacey went to the refrigerator, grabbed the milk, and poured a glass.

“What’s going on?” Moore asked.

Camden filled Moore and Rayma in on the details of the day. Her stomach burned with jealousy. Not over Lacey but over the fact that a couple of nights had passed since she and Camden had made love, and she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. He’d gone back to work and cast her off as if she were just another conquest. He’d gone to La Grange, a dance club crawling with wannabes. Wannabe-in-the-bedroom was how she referred them.

“I got home before you did, didn’t I?” Lacey asked.

“How did you get away?”

“Dare and I had a few drinks and danced, and I told him I needed to get home before my husband did. He had something planned anyway.”

“You don’t know what it was he had planned?” Moore asked.

“No, but judging by the way things looked with that blonde draped all over Camden, he thought Camden was well taken care of.”

“I need to call my father,” Rayma interrupted, changing the subject. She’d intended to ask Moore before Camden came home, and she couldn’t listen to any more about their night at the club, and about some blonde all over him. She didn’t want to be in the same room with Camden. She hated him, and she’d keep telling herself she hated him for as long as it took to actually feel it.

Saying ‘father’ felt strange. For so long, she hated to even
think
about her father. Now James was her father, and she wasn’t sure what to call him.

“No,” Camden said, giving her no time to explain.

“Yes,” Rayma countered, having her proposal already planned. She’d had all night to think about it. “Throughout my entire life I’ve talked to James at least once a week. Last time we talked, he thought I was moving here. No, the last time we spoke is when I found out he was my father and you hung up the phone before we finished our conversation. If I don’t call him back, he’s going to come here to try to find me. He’ll ask around, and if word gets out to Darrell, James could be in danger.”

Camden’s lips pursed, eyes blinking as he studied her a little too closely, a little too long. Warmth tingled down her spine. She glanced at Moore to see what the chief of the operation thought of her plan. If he’d noticed Camden’s intimate perusal, she couldn’t tell. She wondered if everyone knew about her and Camden, though no one had said anything after Lacey had screamed it out.

“I agree,” Moore said. “But I want Camden to be with you when you call him.”

“It’s a personal call. We have personal matters to discuss.”

“You just found out he’s your father?” Moore asked.

Rayma glared. “It’s a long story.”

“Sounds like you have a lot to discuss, but I can’t allow you to be alone.”

“Why?” Rayma asked.

“Because you snuck out on me last time,” Moore said. “I can’t have you in there making plans to escape again, and I already told you your phone calls would be monitored.”

“Lacey can come with me, then.”

Camden snorted. “Not a chance.” He didn’t say anything else, but Rayma knew he didn’t trust Lacey and probably thought she wouldn’t do her job right. He didn’t think anyone did his job right but himself.

Lacey sprung from the chair and marched out of the room in a huff of muttered curses.

Rayma sighed. The last thing she needed was for Camden to be at her side when she talked to her newly acquired dad. She wanted to rant and rave at James, but she also wanted to tell him how much she’d always loved him and how grateful she was to know the truth.

The truth he would have continued to keep from her if it hadn’t been for Richard O’Riley.

She was angry yet conversely happy about the whole ordeal. James was her father. She had a family. Although James never had other children of his own, he had two sisters and a brother, giving her newfound aunts and uncles, nieces, and nephews.

Well, sort of. As long as she didn’t dwell on the circumstances, she could feel joy at the news.

“And you have to use a land line,” Moore added.

“Fine. May I make the call now?”

“This late?” Moore asked. Rayma nodded. James kept odd hours and slept off and on throughout the night. “Go ahead. Camden, show her the phone she can use.”

Camden took Rayma by the elbow, and she gritted her teeth as she walked with him down the corridor. She wasn’t going to speak to him, ever again. He showed her the phone, and she avoided looking at him. He was not there, looking downright sexy in dark pants and a white shirt that looked as if it’d been balled up one too many times. She wondered how many women had messed with what once was a clean and wrinkle-free shirt. At least one, according to Lacey.

“Don’t I get a greeting?” he asked, keeping himself in between her and the phone. That fascinating, devilish, irritating smile played at the corner of his lips.

“Hello,” she said. “Excuse me, I need the phone.”

“That’s it? No ten-second kiss?”

“With that cigarette smoke clinging to you? No way.” Okay, the cigarette smoke wasn’t that bad, not like it would have been if smoking was still allowed inside establishments. And he didn’t smell like any other woman’s perfume, but that didn’t mean one hadn’t been in his arms.

“I’d rather have your body clinging to me,” he said.

“I’m sure you had plenty of females clinging to you tonight.”

He laughed. “I didn’t, but since you asked…” He pulled her toward him and stopped when her breasts thrust against his chest. He kissed her.

He didn’t taste like cigarette smoke, nor did he have any remnants of alcohol on his breath. That, at least, would have made Rayma balk. But his mouth tasted perfect, like a dizzying wave of heaven consuming her.

And she was too weak to step away. To her consternation, he pulled away first.

She grabbed the phone, but he touched her hand to prevent her from dialing. “Just so you know,” Camden said, his breath touching her ear, “all I could think about tonight was you.”

Just as she was telling herself earlier—a phony, egotistical jerk.

It took her a moment to realize she had finished dialing and James had answered the phone. He sounded worried.

“It’s me,” Rayma said, gulping in a deep breath.

“You okay?” James asked as Rayma tried to ignore the heat of Camden’s gaze on her back.

She could barely concentrate. She didn’t know what to say. She’d never been so tongue-tied over a man before. But she’d never shared a bed with a man who seemed to emanate power and control wherever he went.

She hated giving anyone control, especially a man.

“I’m fine,” Rayma told James. “Sorry we got cut off the other day.”

“Where are you?”

“It doesn’t matter where I am,
Dad
.”

Her statement was met with silence. Camden’s hand rested on her shoulder. She wished to hell he would leave her alone, though part of her was afraid he might. Now, after hearing James’s voice, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be alone.

His steady arm around her might be the only thing holding her up.

“I’m sorry, Rayma. You know how much I love you. Your mother didn’t want to tell you. Richard didn’t even know at first.”

“After he was sent to prison would have been the perfect opportunity to tell me.”

“Your mother—”

“Didn’t want to tell me, I know. But you didn’t have to do what she said.”

“I’m sorry.”

Rayma swallowed and let out a slow breath. Sorry wasn’t going to make a bit of difference. But then again why should it even matter anymore? She was a grown woman who’d faced many hardships in life. One more wasn’t going to kill her.

“Rayma?” James asked. “Talk to me.”

She was afraid things would never be the same. She wasn’t sure she wanted them to be.

“Why did it matter what my mother wanted? She never cared what anybody else wanted. Why bow down to her wishes?”

“Because she’s your mother and has the right to make those demands.”

“You’re my father, and you have the right to make those demands, too.”

“I’m going to come down there,” James said.

“No. I won’t be able to see you right now.”

“You know that man you’re with? Camden Alexander. I did some digging on him.”

“Oh? And what did you find?” She knew what he’d find. Planted information about a chef who didn’t really exist. She’d asked him to check on Camden before she’d known the truth.

Oh, he could cook, better than most chefs Rayma had known. He could cook, he could make a woman feel like he cared, but he was an undercover agent, and when this was all over, he would still be an undercover agent, only posing as someone else. A postal worker, a garbage man, an accountant. It didn’t matter. Camden Alexander didn’t exist as she knew him.

“He’s not the kind of man you should be with. Remember Keegan? This guy might be worse. Gambling debts. Drugs. Bad stuff.”

“We’ll meet up soon,” Rayma said, ignoring his statement. Everything he’d learned about Camden was false.

“Are you in trouble?”

“No more than I’ve ever been before.”

Richard O’Riley and his news created a new set of problems. Would Rayma keep her last name, or would she change it? How would Rayma Noose sound?

No better than Rayma Alexander. If in fact, that was Camden’s last name.

“I’m worried about you,” James said.

She gulped back tears. Camden was too close, his presence overpowering her senses. She pictured him in the garden, shirtless and digging dirt, and fought to detach herself from any emotion. Another of her strong suits was growing cold when she needed to.

She didn’t want to cry over the phone with James, and she damn sure didn’t want Camden to be a witness.

“Don’t be,” Rayma answered. “My father taught me well.”

“Rayma—”

“I’ll call you in a few days, James. Goodbye.”

Exasperated, she hung up the phone. It was impossible to know what James was thinking, what he was feeling. Maybe one day, when she didn’t have someone hovering over her, they could talk.

Camden turned her around to face him. “You okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you going to be the kind of woman who acts like the other night didn’t happen?” She didn’t reply, and Camden sighed. Rayma had nothing to say. She was strung out, stressed, depressed, and falling in love.

There was nothing she
could
say.

“It was the most incredible night of my life.” Camden’s lips hovered next to hers. “I thought about you all night. Couldn’t wait to get home to you.”

“Whatever, Camden.” She was still hurt over his words last night after he’d confronted Lacey. He’d been rude and hateful, telling her she was a prisoner, treating her like she was nothing, like their night together had been nothing.

Her lower back rested against the desk, and his hands were propped on the top of it, sandwiching her in. Imprisoning her. Her body twitched in an effort to escape his grasp. His scent was too strong, too masculine for her senses.

“Let me go,” she whined, though it sounded choked to her ears.

“Not until you kiss me.”

“Absolutely not,” she said as she pushed on his chest.

“Then lie to me. Tell me you didn’t have the best night of your life.”

She shook her head, but inside she was furious. He was pushing her buttons, and for some reason, her heart hurt. Is that what he said to all women? Is that what he said to the women he met tonight?