Prescription For Love (The Kingsley Series) (33 page)

"I really don't mind, Ms. Caswell," Cameron said quietly, unable to ignore the awkwardly childish feeling that filled her as she followed the shorter woman's gray head through the house.

"Silly girl, of course you mind," Marie answered, releasing Cameron's hand as they reached the kitchen. She walked to the counter next to the refrigerator, opening the door and taking out two jugs from the cool interior. Holding them up, she asked, "Sweet tea? Or lemonade?"

"Uh, tea please," Cameron answered, crossing her arms over her chest as the older woman poured tea into two tall glasses.

"That boy," Marie answered, waving Cameron over to a seat at the heavy table. "I told him you'd not like to be left alone like this,” she laughed. “What woman wants to be left alone to meet her man's momma by herself, I said to him. That boy," she finished, raising her glass to take a sip. Replacing the glass on the table, she raised a finger next, pointing and wagging it in Cameron's direction with a smirk. "I tell you what," she said. "If his father had pulled that on me when I had to meet his horrible old mother, he wouldn't have lived to the wedding."

Cameron laughed. "I take it he was with you, then?"

"He was," Marie agreed, giggling with an almost girlish youth as she remembered. Raising her eyebrows, she straightened her face and said, "Not that it made her any less dreadful. You go ahead and tell me if I'm ever dreadful, honey. I'd want to know. Heaven forbid I should ever be as vile as that woman." She reached across the table, patting Cameron's hand.

Nodding dutifully, Cameron decided she would absolutely
never
tell Marie that she was dreadful. So far, she really was sort of cute, and she was trying so hard to ease Cameron's nerves. She couldn't help but lean into the welcoming atmosphere. “Well, you're not dreadful yet," she joked. "But I think this is the part where you pull out the photo albums and show me four year old Mac in the bathtub. With bubbles. And maybe some Barbie dolls?"

Marie tilted her head, watching Cameron just long enough to bring back all the nerves before she broke into a full belly laugh, thick and throaty, the sound reminiscent of what must have been a sensual laugh in her youth. Before long, she'd taken her glasses off and rested them on the table so that she could wipe the tears from her eyes. "Oh, the Barbie dolls!" she shrieked, still laughing. She held a hand out in front of her, struggling to calm her laughter, but then she looked over Cameron's shoulder and broke down again, helpless. Confused, Cameron turned and found a horrified Mac in the doorway.

"What have you done to my mother?" he asked, grinning nervously as he entered the room.

This made Marie laugh harder, causing Cameron to laugh a little too as she said, "Nothing, I just, uh, asked her to play Barbies."

At this, Marie stood shakily and simply left the room, still crying with laughter. Mac took her seat and her tea, watching Cameron carefully. "Barbies?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Mmhmm. Barbies. I asked her if she had any of yours left."

Mac’s mouth fell open, his eyes growing wide as he stared. Surely his mother wouldn't have told Cameron about his childhood doll obsession. He'd played with any toy he could find as a child; it wasn't his fault the only neighbor child had been a girl! "My Barbies?” he asked. “Cameron, I didn't, uh. Well, I didn’t have any Barbies."

Missing his sudden stiffness, Cameron laughed, shaking her head. "No, I was teasing because she was upset that you weren’t back yet when I got here. I think she thought I'd be nervous or something and she was just trying to put me at ease. So I asked her to bring out your childhood bathtub Barbie pictures, and she just laughed and laughed. Care to explain that?"

"No," he retorted, narrowing his eyes at her over cheeks that had pinkened slightly. He cleared his throat, redirecting the conversation. "Wanna see the motorcycle I brought home? I borrowed it from a friend of mine and he kept mine in exchange, so I hope you know I'm making a sacrifice here, Miss Kingsley. My bike is at risk for your comfort."

"Wow, Barbies and motorcycles all in one day," Cameron teased. "You are a marvel, Mackenzie." She laughed as she let him drag her from her chair and press his lips to hers before leading her from the house.

***

"You sure you'll be okay in here? I want to get the bike ready so we can get going." Mac said softly, leaning close to whisper to Cameron. She’d seen and loved the motorcycle he’d borrowed for their trip, but they’d stayed to share lunch with Logan and Marie before planning to get on the road. With the beginning of Cameron’s favorite game show, they’d also settled in for some television.

"Yes, of course," she whispered back with a grin. "I wanted to catch the rest of this and see if I'm right."

Raising an eyebrow, he laughed, which drew his mother's eyes over to light on them, sparkling. "You’re going to win Wheel of Fortune, are you?" he asked, teasing.

"Well, I want to know if I'm right," she said, crossing her arms indignantly.

"Alright then," he said, kissing her gently. "We'll be back in a bit." Tapping Logan's shoulder, Mac strode through the door, his son close behind him.

"Dad, do you have it in there? Will it get smashed?" Logan asked, as he walked with Mac down the driveway to the luxury motorcycle parked near the street.

"Not in this," Mac said, walking up to the bike. "It's a Victory, called a Cross Country Tour. I borrowed it from my friend from work, and with all this storage, we should be fine. See? Check this out, kid."

Leaning forward to peer into the depths of the trunk compartment, Logan whistled. "You can fit a lot of stuff in there, Dad. I thought you were only going for the weekend?"

"I'm going with a girl," Mac laughed. "She's probably got a suitcase in her backseat and I'll have to talk her back down to your backpack or something. This thing has the trunk, plus front and rear storage, but it's still not a car. Still, there's no beating the way it feels to travel with a pretty girl with, uh" he stammered, remembering who he was talking to. "The wind in your face," he finished.

"Where did you hide her gift on this thing? Are you sure you have it? The ring? Is she gonna like it, do you think? Are you being careful so the little box doesn't break?"

Mac sighed. He loved being a father, but his kid sure was curious and full of questions. Wrapping an arm around the boy's head, he dragged him close, burying Logan's face in his stomach. Logan's arms came up, shoving at his sides while the muffled sound of giggles escaped. "I hid it well, yes I have it, she's gonna love it, and I'm a careful man," he answered, laughing as he released his son. "You worry more than me," he added.

Walking over to Cameron's car, he opened the back door, expecting to find a giant travel bag, or worse, a luggage set of some kind. He was surprised to see only a small carry-on sized bag, stuffed to the seams and obviously struggling to hold its contents. "Huh," he said, leaning in to haul the bag across the seat and taking it over to the bike. Tucking it neatly into the trunk compartment of the bike, he returned to the car and leaned in the front to pop the trunk latch. Finding the trunk empty, he gestured for Logan to close up the car, and he headed for the house.

Cameron looked up, beaming as he walked in. "I was right," she said. "The guy chose the wrong letters though, the moron, and so the other girl won the game. But I knew it. I should totally go on that show."

"Is it even still going on?" he asked. "Like, is it still being filmed?"

Cameron laughed. "Of course it is! This one's over though, so I'm ready to go if you are."

"Actually, I can't find all your stuff," Mac said, his hand rising up to find the back of his neck.

Cameron's eyebrows came together, confusion darkening her eyes. "My bag's in the backseat," she said. "You know, that's the one behind the front seat?"

"Silly. There's only the one bag, then?"

"Yep. You said pack light. Is the bag too big?"

"Nope, if that's all you've got, then we're good. I was afraid you'd be one of those girls with a suitcase and three makeup bags or something. And sixty-five pajamas."

Cameron raised her eyes to his and stepped close, her palms flattening on his chest. "I didn't bring any," she said quietly.

Raising an eyebrow, Mac glanced over her shoulder in search of his mother. Finding himself alone with Cameron, he dropped his hands low on her hips. "You didn't bring any makeup?" he murmured, gently bumping the tip of his nose to hers.

Tilting her head, Cameron brought their lips together, her tongue sneaking out to tease the curve of his lip. "Pajamas. I didn't bring any pajamas," she said. Her lips curved in a smile against his lips as his mouth fell open, and she stepped away from him. "Ready to go?" she asked.

"Oh, believe me," he muttered, "I'm ready to go." Cameron laughed, stepping back as Logan's voice sounded through the door, just before the door flew open and he was inside, happily chattering.

"While you guys are gone," he said, "I bet you're gonna kiss a lot, aren't you?"

"Well, I might kiss her once or twice. You know, good night kisses and stuff,” Mac teased. “But we're gonna go hiking, too, and maybe swimming, and probably watch some TV. Maybe eat some good food, normal weekend vacation stuff."

"And kissing. Like this," Logan cackled, making exaggerated kissing noises and flopping his head back and forth dramatically.

Cameron shook her head, laughing at the boy's antics. "Been practicing that little move, have you?" she asked.

Logan laughed. "No, I don't practice that stuff. I asked Dad about kissing once, and he says it comes natural to Caswells. He said we don’t need practice; it’s in the blood." Tipping his face, he winked and turned to leave the room.

Dropping her hands on her hips, Cameron turned to Mac. "Wow, really? That's some confidence you have there, Mr. Caswell. Kissing just comes naturally, huh? All that natural talent, you must just have the ladies falling all over themselves. And no practice at all. Hmm."

"Well, maybe I could practice a little," Mac said with a grin. "When we get there. You ready to go?"

***

Balanced on the back of the heavy touring motorcycle, Cameron locked her fingers together over the flat hardness of Mac's stomach. She was battling the urge to change her mind, to tell Mac she'd rather they took her car. She’d gotten used to riding with him on his own motorcycle, but this one was much bigger and much heavier. She wondered if it would balance as well. But then he settled back and lifted the kickstand, and the bike roared to life. Mac's body pressed snugly between her thighs, his shoulders pressing her breasts deliciously flat and the muscles of his back rippling along the surface of her own flat stomach.

Cameron pressed her helmet to the curve of his shoulder, closing her eyes and trusting him to operate the bike, reminding herself to believe in his strength and his inherent sense of caution. She breathed in, feeling her stomach press along the length of Mac's back as she enjoyed the free feeling of flying along with him. The vibration and power of the bike beneath her teamed with the strength and safety of the man before her, and soon her nipples were pebbled, pressing uncomfortably against his shoulder blades.

Forced to lean back, Cameron opened her eyes again, watching through the face guard in her helmet, surprised to realize how far they’d already gone. Unfortunately, that sense of renewed awareness didn't last long; as they rode along, she grew increasingly aware that the juncture between her thighs was tightly pressed against Mac's rear, her thighs wide to give him room. The heat pooling there was sufficient to keep her warm in spite of the wind from the bike's speed, and by the time they'd reached the interstate, Cameron was a live wire.

"Too bad we didn't take my car," she muttered to herself, her voice muffled and echoing slightly in the confines of the helmet she wore. "We could have pulled over so I could find out what it's like to ride a man in the woods on the side of a back road." With her hands still laced tightly around Mac's stomach, the temptation to let them drift lower grew stronger and stronger until she eventually wiggled back some on her perch and moved her hands to his sides to keep from distracting him.