Who Do You Love (Rock Royalty Book 7) (4 page)

“It’s really great to have him in L.A.,” she continued. “I’d arrange for installation of an alarm system myself since he thinks it’s so important, but I know he’d rather be in charge. He’s making up for lost time in the big brother department.”

“So I noticed that night at Satan’s.”

The back of Cami’s neck burned again. The memory shamed her now. She’d leaped onto a tabletop and belted out all her longing and heartache in front of Eamon and everybody else at the roadhouse. She might still be there, frozen forever, if Ren hadn’t come to stand below and lifted up his arms. She’d jumped into them and let him whisk her away.

For that semi-graceful retreat she’d be eternally grateful.

“I’ve worried about every dark alley I’ve passed since,” Eamon added. “I have the idea Ren would be happy to set up a private ‘chat’ between us.”

“I wouldn’t rule out Payne,” she said in a light voice, trying to make it sound like a joke. Trying to make it sound as if the break-up was not something she or anyone else had dwelled upon.

A shadow crossed Eamon’s face. “Cam…” he said softly. “
A ghrá geal—
”

“Don’t call me that,” she said, the words quick and fierce and giving way too much away.

The phrase meant “bright love” or something close to it, and she’d thrilled to hear the exotic phrase on his tongue when they’d been together.

Now they weren’t.

“You should go.”

Dropping his head, he closed his eyes on a sigh and pinched the bridge of his perfect masculine nose, the picture of fatigue and frustration.

Cami wouldn’t let it soften her. “Look. You’re tired. I’m tired.” From down the hall, in the direction of her bedroom, she heard the cat’s meow. “Floyd’s ready for bed.”

Eamon’s chin lifted. “If he’s your neighbor’s cat, how does he get in here?”

“How does he get in?” She shrugged. “I leave the back door open.”

“
What
?” Eamon was already on the move, long legs eating up the hallway toward the rear room that had a sliding door leading to the back yard. “That’s a security nightmare.”

Cami hurried after him. “Keep your pants on. I have a stick in it.”

When she reached the small den, she found him with his hands on his hips, staring at the sawed off broomstick that left an opening sized for a sleek feline.

“See? Too narrow for the boogey man.”

He whirled, his expression thunderous. “Jesus Christ, Cami. I could pop that stick out of place in three seconds flat with a bent car antenna.”

Her mouth dropped. “How come you know how to do that?”

“Misspent youth. Evil intentions. A criminal mind. Take your pick. Or take them all.”

“I…” Before she could think how to respond, the cat dashed into the room then escaped through the opening.

Without a by-your-leave, Eamon shoved the door shut behind the animal and set both the lever lock on the handle and the one at the base of the door.

Cami frowned. “But Floyd—”

“Can he get into his own house?”

“They have a pet door,” she muttered. But now she wouldn’t have a companion to share her bed for the night.

“No more doors left open,” Eamon declared, “even if it’s only inches.”

His commanding tone made her bristle. What she did was no longer any of his business. That had been his choice.

“And no more advice from you,” she countered, shooing him toward the front door with her hands.

Once there, she looked up at the maddening, beautiful man who still seemed inclined to linger. Narrowing her eyes, she fixed him with a stubborn stare. “Time to say good night, Eamon.”

His lips twitched. “Good night, Eamon.”

“I mean
goodbye
,” she said, cursing herself for the mistake.

That had been her intention when he’d followed her up to the house, right? This was going to be the goodbye he’d remember, not that other pitiful last moment when she’d thrown her feelings at him and had to be rescued by Ren and the others of her tribe.

“I don’t expect we’ll see each other again.”

“I don’t suppose we should,” he said.

She nodded.
The goodbye he’d remember
, she whispered to herself, then reached past him to pull open the door.

But suddenly she was in Eamon’s arms. He yanked her against his hard body, pulling her up to her toes.

“So let’s be sure we share a goodbye kiss,” he murmured, then pressed his mouth to hers.

Her body betrayed her. She moaned at the first taste of him, at the frantic surge of her heart in her chest. His tongue speared between her teeth, and she welcomed him inside. Her hands slid into his hair, her nails biting his scalp. His fingers tightened on her, one at her hip, one sliding lower to knead her butt.

He angled his head, changing the depth of the kiss, and she twined her tongue around his even as she looped one ankle around the back of his leg. His erection was steel, an insistent, glorious pressure against the mound of her sex.

“Fuck,” he groaned into her mouth, and she wasn’t sure if it was a command or an exclamation.

Her head was too muddled by lust to decide.

And her clothes were too hot to be worn. She dropped one hand to reach for the hem of her shirt even as Eamon boosted her higher in his arms. Now she had no choice but to wrap her legs around his waist as he whirled her about. Her shoulders pressed against the door and his mouth slid to her throat.

Pleasure shot through her. He said something, his voice dark and needy, and then he bit her neck. Sucked.

Cami’s head shot back, her skull cracking against the mullioned upper half of the door.

The sound paralyzed them both.

“Oh hell, oh fuck, oh damn,” Eamon said, his big hand carefully moving into her hair to explore the back of her head. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Stupid, but fine.

She struggled in his hold, and he allowed her to slide down his body, though he kept her caged by his arms.

He stared into her face, concern etching his. “
A ghrá,
how many of me do you see?”

Her palms found his chest, shoved him back. “One. And that’s one too many.

His expression eased. “Okay, then.”

“Yeah. Okay, then.” Without more ado, she groped for the door’s handle and pulled it open. “Go.”

“Going.” He stepped over the threshold, then turned back. “I’ve always liked your kisses, too.”

Then the jerk had the audacity to grin.

In response, Cami slammed the door in his arrogant, appealing, too-handsome face. She told herself it wasn’t laughter she could hear coming from the other side.

But she couldn’t convince herself that t
he goodbye she wanted him to remember hadn’t turned into a goodbye she was certain she’d never forget.

Silly dreamer.

Cami’s brother Payne adjusted one of the two vintage motorcycles they’d brought to the Classic Bike and Muscle Car Show being held at the rodeo grounds on the eastern edge of the county. The idea of buying a booth at the event was the brainchild of his fiancée, Rose, and now she used a rag to buff the shining paint while fussing over the fingerprints he’d—allegedly—left behind.

Cami glanced over from where she was stacking flyers that listed each of her brother’s salvage yards. They sat beside one of the two laptops they’d use to access the database of available parts for purchase if a potential customer enquired.

“Looks good to me,” she said. “As a matter of fact, I think you’re a genius, Rose.”

Besides the two gleaming vehicles they were using to attract attention, they’d hung huge photos of some of the high-performance automobiles that had been restored with parts from Payne’s businesses. A couple he owned, another three belonged to a friend. The photographer had captured them in lusty, loving detail.

“I’m telling you, they’re the automotive equivalent of a lingerie shoot a man booked for his mistress.”

Payne took a long look at them over his shoulder, then shot Cami a grin and Rose a sly side-glance. “You’re right. Maybe I can get Christopher to set something up for this beautiful brunette I know…”

His fiancée was already shaking her head. “In your dreams.”

“Every night, darlin’,” he said, then snagged her wrist to pull her close for a kiss. “But anyway, Christopher doesn’t deserve to see my sweetheart in that little pink number with the—”

“Stop!” Rose swatted Payne, then pushed him away. “You’ll embarrass your sister.”

“Yes,” Cami said, clasping her hands under her chin. “Please don’t upset my delicate sensibilities.”

Payne grinned again, unrepentant, then checked his watch. “I gotta go, ladies. Anything else you need?”

Rose shook her head. “Gates will open to the public in fifteen minutes, and we’ve got two other pairs of hands scheduled to help out then, too. You’ll return late this afternoon for the reload?”

“I’ll never let you down,” Payne promised. Then he stepped up to his fiancée, and despite her sputters, drew her body against his. “Give me some sugar to get me through until then.”

“Payne…”

He smothered her protest with his mouth. The kiss was the kind Cami should be accustomed to witnessing by now—passionate and deliberate—but she looked away after a second, busying herself with the flyers.

Then she heard the smack of a masculine hand on a denim-covered behind.

“Ouch,” said Rose, but she didn’t sound the least bit hurt or upset.

Next, Payne breezed past Cami, ruffling her hair. “Bye, kid.”

“I’m not ten!” she yelled to his retreating figure.

“Then keep an eye on my wife-to-be!” he called back and disappeared around a corner in the direction of the exhibitors’ parking lot.

She and Rose exchanged glances.

“Sorry about that,” the brunette said.

“Because he sometimes acts like I’m still putting on tea parties for my stuffed animals, or because the two of you were playing tonsil hockey right in front of my innocent eyes?”

“I really do apologize,” she said, looking shame-faced.

“Please don’t. I’m kidding.” Cami pulled out one of the chairs at the table and dropped into it. “It tickles me seeing you two and everybody else over-the-moon in love. Given the terrible examples we had of sex and intimacy at the compound, I think we all believed the whole pair-bonding thing was not a possibility for the Velvet Lemons kids. So I think we closed down our hearts. Not Cilla, but the rest…pretty much all romantic pessimists.”

Rose frowned. “Not you, either. Your music—”

“Fairy tales.” Cami said, logging in to one of the laptops. “It started with the stories I made up for myself and my teddy bears when I was putting on those tea parties. Later, I continued to tell stories and started setting them to music.”

“Payne feels guilty, you know,” Rose said, taking the second chair as people started trickling down the aisles. The gates must have opened. “He said you were left alone too often.”

“The downside of keeping a buffer between me and the worst of the debauchery. I had the people in my head for company, though.” Which included, as she grew, the knights, the warriors, and the virile mysterious strangers. In her imagination, there’d been plenty of romance, starring men who were nothing like the careless degenerates who spent nights, days, and sometimes weeks at the compound. “That’s where I keep my emotions these days. In my head and in my songs.”

“But Eamon—”

“No,” Cami said swiftly. “Let’s not go there.” She suspected Rose was ready to point out that Cami had fallen for the man. “We’re declaring today and this place an Eamon-free zone.”

The other woman looked about to object, but then a couple approached one of the vintage bikes and began asking questions. From there, they had a constant stream of people to deal with. Rose had chosen the event well, because obviously it attracted a clientele interested in vehicle restoration. They spent time looking up specific parts as well as discussing what else could be found at Payne’s various salvage yards.

The other exhibitors surrounding them seemed busy, too. They showcased or offered for purchase everything from custom leather car interiors to flashy motorcycle helmets. Clothes and jewelry were for sale as well, and the delicious smell of street tacos and deep fat-fried dough floated on the breeze. Even once their helpers arrived, though, there was no chance to explore until the very late afternoon when the crowd thinned.

“Break time?” Cami suggested to Rose. “Let’s leave Earl and Bren in charge of the booth and take a walk around.”

The other woman blotted her forehead with the back of her wrist then swiped up a bottle of water. “You go ahead. I’m saving my energy for when we have to break down the booth.”

Cami grinned and wiggled her eyebrows. “Or for when your blond Adonis, aka my handsome brother, returns to get himself some more of your extra special sugar.”

In mock-anger, Rose threw the empty bottle at Cami which she caught in her hand, grin widening.

“Be nice.”

She was still smiling as she set off down the aisle, scanning the area for booths of interest. Then her gaze snagged on a familiar head set on a familiar pair of shoulders in the distance. Her stomach twisted and her smile died.

“No,” she murmured. “I’m seeing things.”

This is an Eamon-free zone. This is an Eamon-free day.

It’s what she’d been telling herself since he’d left her house three days before.
I now have an Eamon-free life.

She blinked a couple of times, then took a second look in the same direction. No dark hair, no wide shoulders up ahead. Her breath came easier. Her feet began moving again.

Just my imagination.

As she walked, she took in exhibits and items for sale. T-shirts. Leather jackets. Equipment to detect police radar. Additives to improve fuel performance. Herbal supplements to improve male performance.

That particular booth had no interested parties hanging around, Cami was unsurprised to discover. Who in this crowd wanted to admit they suffered from that sort of problem? The visitors weighed heavily on the masculine side, ranging in age from twenties to sixties. There were bandana-wearing, bearded dudes in leather jackets displaying colorful rocker patches, as well as biker babes in ribbed tanks and jeans so tight you could practically read the tattoos on their asses. They mingled with an obviously well-off, more conventional crowd in sleeker leather and silk instead of cotton.