Personal Assets (Texas Nights) (12 page)

He wanted to treat her like a naughty child? Fine, then she’d treat him like nothing more than her banker. He extended no invitation for her to sit, but she planted herself in an unyielding wingback chair and he returned to his thronelike seat. She would not apologize for her tardiness now. Nor would she explain that she’d spent ten minutes in the lobby politely socializing with his clients.

“It has come to my attention the documentation you submitted to Shelbyville Bank and Trust to secure a business loan was falsified.”

Cold dread oozed down Allie’s spine. Whatever she’d been expecting, this wasn’t it. Amazing how he still had the ability to catch her off guard. “What do you mean ‘falsified’?”

“My understanding was that Personal Assets would be an image consulting firm.”

“It is.” Oh, crud. Where was this conversation headed?

Her father’s breath hissed out, and he clutched at his chest as if he’d been stabbed through the heart with his letter opener. “No, you are using my money, the bank’s money, to finance some kind of sexual...brainwashing.”

She was impressed he’d actually used the word
sexual
although he’d uttered it like he wanted to scrape it off his tongue. “Daddy—” His raised eyebrow had her beginning again. “Personal Assets is exactly as I represented it to Nelson Bramhall. I provide individual counseling and seminars that help women reconcile their personal lives with positive body image. I’m providing a much-needed service. My business plan was clear on how my profit margin would allow me to repay the loan within the terms of the agreement.”

She would not panic, assuming snaky, slithering underarm sweat didn’t indicate panic.

“Are you telling me you do not, in fact, talk with women about sex? About why to have sex? Where to have sex? With whom to have sex? How to have sex?” His last question edged on a shout.

“Of course we discuss sex, along with other topics. Because poor body image often impacts a woman’s ability to express herself within a physical relationship.”

“Personal Assets is not the type of business the bank should have a professional affiliation with. Therefore, I’m invoking the loan term allowing the bank to mandate full payment of the outstanding note within fourteen days.” Her father rose from his chair, indicating their meeting was over.

Allie wasn’t going to be dismissed so easily. “I’ve already used a substantial portion of the money to make a down payment on the Williams Building.”

“The bank isn’t interested in the financial decisions you’ve made since the loan was funded. The bank is not concerned with how you repay the loan, only that you repay it within fourteen days of this official notification. You will receive a certified letter stating the same, dated with today’s date.”

When she envisioned herself brandishing her father’s letter opener, Allie knew it was time to leave. Contemplating murder didn’t say much for her state of mind. And realistically, she wouldn’t even be able to plead insanity.

Allie stood, her spine the trunk of a flash-frozen sapling, and examined her father’s face for any sign of compassion. It took only seconds to call off the search. “Thank you for your time. I would say it’s been a pleasure, but my father always taught me not to lie.”

She turned to leave, moving deliberately to give the impression she was unaffected by this professional and personal blow. As she reached for the gilded door handle, her father added, “Alice Ann, if she were alive, your mother would be so ashamed of the way you’re behaving.”

Every muscle in her body rebelled as a weapon more finely crafted than his letter opener stabbed though her conscience.

Chapter Nine

Cameron kicked back on his deep suede couch, the only decent piece of furniture he owned other than his bed, and closed his eyes to absorb B.B. King belting out a song about a woman faking out her man. Men and women shouldn’t play those kind of games with each other, but somehow things always got twisted up.

Like all this shit blowing around between Allie and him right now.

When she showed up, she’d want to pick up where they left off last night. If she showed. If her dad had mentioned the economic development committee to her, she might not. After all, having almost-sex with Cameron now would be sleeping with the enemy. Sort of.

He dropped his head to the couch’s back.

How would he pull this off, convincing Dylan Marfa to give Shelbyville the distribution center, keep Allie off the man’s radar, all the while trying to see if he and Allie had the potential for anything more than wild monkey sex?

Even right-wing folks had sex, right? They probably wanted to have good sex. Maybe Allie could consult with their employee assistance program. Yeah, that was a match made in heaven.

Chikkalo Bill’s biscuits.

Allie’s cupcakes.

And his mom’s...dear God, he could
not
go there.

Unfortunately, even B.B. King’s smoky voice couldn’t smooth away the edginess that had eaten at Cameron’s gut since Allie took his mom’s phone call. No way around it, either he’d convince Allie to give him the goods or he’d have a heart-to-heart with his mom. Jesus, and didn’t the thought of that make his intestines shrink?

Okay, he and Allie would get all this extraneous crap out of the way and then...and then...hell, she still wouldn’t want more than the casual thing.

Meeting at his house was supposed to give him a mental and emotional advantage, but she was still pulling the strings.

He heard the spit and hiss of tiny rocks in his gravel driveway and immediately lunged for the door. He checked himself, hung his head and sucked in a couple breaths. The smooth red oak planks below his bare feet grounded him, and he swung open the door to find Allie with her fist in the air, poised to knock.

She held up a bottle of wine and two glasses and smiled, but it wasn’t her normal open, easy expression. “I brought refreshments.”

Hell, beer nuts and tap water were fine with him as long as she came with them. He drew her inside and took the bottle and glasses. “All you had to do was bring yourself.”

Her smile melted, and she rolled her shoulders. “Look, I ran into a...situation...today. I’m tired and crabby, but I don’t want to force my mood on you. I didn’t want to cancel on you, but this may not be a great idea.”

Flush
,
swoosh
,
gurgle
. That was the sound of his hope that she and her dad had a positive and productive meeting today. “Maybe I can make it all better.”

Sure he could. About like he could climb K2 with an ice pick.

“I sincerely doubt it.” She turned back and reached for the door.

Cameron pressed his hip against it to keep her from leaving. If she’d confide in him, surely they could find a way to fix this mess. “Oh, no, you don’t.”

“I’ve had enough of men trying to manipulate me into doing what they want.” Her jaw was pulsing, and her nose was even flaring. Wow, Allie Shelby mad. It was kind of hot, but he’d keep that to himself.

Then her words hit him. Wait a minute, he wasn’t trying to manipulate her. He was trying to help her and the entire community. How he might do both, he hadn’t figured out yet.

Her expression was full of exhaustion and defeat, and Cameron’s gut clenched. No way would he let her walk out of his house now. “Allie, stay. Please. You shouldn’t go home and be alone right now.”

“I know the plan was to have wild monkey sex tonight. But I don’t think I’d be any good, and the point was for us to be very, very good together.”

That was her plan. His plan was to take care of her. He took her hand and led her to the couch, nudged her to sit. “I’ll pour you a glass of wine while you put your feet up and relax.”

She sank into the cushions and rewarded him with a lift of her lips that was a fraction of the potency of her normal smile, but at least it was something.

He took the wine and glasses into his minuscule kitchen and was pulling the cork when a muffled snuffling came from the living room. Shit, she was crying. He sloshed wine into a glass and headed back to the couch.

She was stretched out, one arm crooked over her forehead.

“Allie?”

Then it dawned on him she was laughing, not crying.

“I’m sorry, but I just can’t get over this décor.” She circled her arm to encompass the room and the remainder of the house. “Big, macho Cameron Wright living in a house full of—”

“Don’t say it,” he warned.

“—jackasses.”

“I prefer the term
burro.
” When the house’s former tenant had promised Cameron she would be back within the week to pick up her treasured collection, he’d agreed. He’d piled all her knickknack crap on his TV stand and had already packed half of them into one of his moving boxes. But the bottom shelf was still a zoo of ceramic donkeys, glass donkeys, stone donkeys, papier-mâché donkeys and stuffed donkeys. Hell, there was even one made of turquoise leather and what looked like snakeskin.

And that menagerie had nothing on what she’d done to the walls. He’d pulled down the piñata, but the donkey border stenciled in Mardi Gras colors near the ceiling was going to take a trip to the hardware store, at least a gallon of Kilz and possibly a round of therapy. For some reason, though, he got a kick out of the pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey tacked to the back of the front door.

“That’s my absolute favorite.” Allie pointed to the black velvet donkey painting leaning against the wall. “If you need help hanging it—”

“No thanks. I’ve been saying a little prayer every day that the previous renter will come back and escort her Wild Kingdom off to a new location.”

“She must’ve been sublimating some feelings about her ex-husband or an old boyfriend.” Allie was grinning now. Thank God for the donkey distraction. “There’s my new workshop title: ‘Men who are jackasses and the women who love them.’”

“Is that the kind of thing you talk about with your clients?”

“The topic of your mom is off-limits.”

Damn, he was so transparent, he could moonlight as the Invisible Man.

Fine, Allie needed him more tonight than he needed to know about this thing with his mom. Joining Allie on the couch, Cameron raised her legs to place her feet in his lap. He passed her the wineglass and she scooted upright and sipped. Her feet were bare, the high-heeled sandals she’d worn tossed under his rickety coffee table.

He settled in and rubbed her feet with deep strokes. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

“Whatever’s got you so upset.” His thumbs dug into the balls of her feet, and Allie groaned and arched her back in pleasure.

“How about you do what you’re doing, and I’ll enjoy it?”

Message received. No serious conversations tonight. He worked his fingers between Allie’s toes. He’d never had a foot fetish before, but hers were pretty with her pink polished toenails. They looked like little pieces of tasty candy. Unfortunately, his stomach wasn’t the body part growling with hunger.

“Thanks for not pressing the issue.”

Pressure built in his chest. She wouldn’t be thanking him if she knew about her dad’s plans.

Something must’ve shown on his face because she tried to swing her feet around, but only succeeded in sliding them across the bulge in his jeans. Great. Massaging her soft, candy-tipped feet had given him a half-boner, and now she knew it.

Her toes skimmed his fly again. Dammit, that was no accident.

“You should have told me you have a thing for feet.” She laughed, a sultry sound in the back of her throat, and placed her glass on the table.

Apparently, all it took to cheer up this woman was a bunch of jackasses and one jackass with a hard-on. “I never have before. I think it’s only your feet.”

“Suddenly I’m feeling much, much better.” She took his hand and pulled him toward her. “Why don’t you come over here?”

How dangerous could it be? Cameron stretched out beside her, their faces level on the suede pillow. They studied one another and listened to the beat of the blues streaming from the speakers. Allie’s lashes fluttered closed, hiding the intensity of her unusual eyes. Cameron stroked a hand down the length of her blond hair, which had come unbound from the band she’d tied it back in. He liked it loose, draping over her shoulders, over the pillow, over his lap.

He had a quick flash of Allie kneeling between his thighs the night before. Her scorching mouth sucking at him with perfect rhythm while her hair slid like a soft waterfall over him. He wanted that again. Wanted to watch her tease and torment him. Wanted to wrap his fist around all that silky hair while she took him in her mouth.

God, now she had him rushing too.

He closed his eyes and took a couple of silent deep breaths to try to push back the need brought on by his little fantasy.

Soft touches skimmed across his cheekbone, his forehead, his lips. He didn’t stop to think, but opened his mouth and licked her finger as she’d done to him last night. She shivered, and he gently sucked it into his mouth, tracing the delicate skin with the tip of his tongue. She tasted of wine. He drew her finger in and out of his mouth, which only made him think of the way he wanted to slide in and out of her body.

Too physical. Too soon. Too damned fast.

Chapter Ten

With every shallow breath, Allie’s breasts brushed Cameron’s chest, teasing her nipples to tightness. Oh, her groove was definitely back.

Cameron let her finger slip to the curve of his bottom lip and kissed the tip, a chaste little peck, and pulled back. Uh-uh. No way. He could not stop now.

She’d thought her mood and desire were shattered by the day’s stress. But Cameron could offer simple, straightforward, physical comfort.

Suddenly what she needed seemed more than simply physical.

Which was not the agreement they’d made.

The hole inside her was simply temporary neediness. She didn’t want to spook Cameron, have him walk away because she needed something more than he could give. More than she’d asked for. She’d get through the emotional quicksand with her father by herself. She always did.

For now, she’d take refuge in Cameron’s body.