Covert Kisses. Jane Godman
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had spent the previous night tossing and turning and lecturing himself on the foolishness of getting too close too fast. Getting close at all, never mind the timescales. His brain had given his body a lecture. It was choosing the familiar. Latching on to Laurie because it was easy. If he’d passed her in the street, she’d have turned his head. The fact she’d fallen unconscious into his arms had thrust her remarkable similarity to Carla right under his nose. Fate had given his sex drive a wake-up call. Her presence had acted like an injection of a performance-enhancing drug directly into his previously dormant sexual urges. It was all wrong. You want her because of how she looks, not for who she is. No woman deserves that. That was how his speech to himself had gone last night. Now she was before him again in person, and every sensible, reasonable word flew out of his head again. His body took over, shutting his brain down.
Laurie attempted a smile in response to his question. On anyone else it might have worked. Because, in the short time he’d known her, Cameron had become an expert on her expressions; he wasn’t fooled.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I was just talking to the store owner—” she waved a hand toward Milligan’s “—and she told me about her daughter. I guess I felt bad for her.”
He still wasn’t convinced by her reply, but he let it pass. He’d known Laurie Carter for twenty-four hours. It didn’t exactly give him the right to worry about her. Hard on the heels of that thought came a question. Does that mean I want to worry about her? Last night he hadn’t thought beyond the physical wanting. Maybe he should just put any thinking about Laurie aside for another time. Along with the urgent desire he had to draw her into his arms and kiss away that worried look.
“It was a bad business. Sarah was widowed when Deanna was a baby. She devoted her life to her daughter, but they struggled. Making ends meet was always hard, and Deanna had a few problems as she was growing up. She went off the rails when she was in her teens. Now Deanna is gone, Sarah has no one. Loneliness and stress have taken its toll on her well-being.”
“That’s obvious from the way she talks.”
Laurie opened the trunk of her car and shifted a large artist’s portfolio case to one side so she could place her groceries inside. As he helped her with the groceries, Cameron eyed the portfolio in surprise. “I thought you were on vacation.”
“You should try telling my agent about that.” She rolled her eyes. “To be fair, I decided on this vacation after I agreed to a deadline.”
“Tell me you’re not working so hard you can’t join me for dinner tonight?” The words were out before he could stop them. What happened to sensible? He’d convinced himself the logical thing would be to not ask her on the second date he’d mentioned as they parted last night. Now he was practically holding his breath as he waited for her answer.
“That would be nice.”
Cameron watched as she drove away. It was probably a good thing Laurie was only here on vacation. The feelings he was developing toward her were threatening to become fairly explosive. And, while he welcomed the signs he was able to feel again, he wasn’t sure he was ready for another relationship. Particularly with someone who looked so much like Carla. He knew what other people would say.
My God, I’d say it myself if I was on the outside looking in! You are still grieving. Looking for a substitute. Yes, it’s time to move on. Just make sure you get it right. If the time is right—and it seems it is—find a short, plump blonde who bears no resemblance to Carla. Start with friendship and fun. This fierce, burning intensity can’t be the right way to go.
Now Laurie had gone, his head was back in control. He knew she wasn’t Carla. Apart from her looks, she was nothing like her. Sometime during that meal at Dino’s last night—he wasn’t quite sure when or how it had happened—he’d stopped thinking about her as the-girl-who-looked-like-Carla and started to think of her as Laurie. And he liked Laurie. A lot. Too much for his own comfort. And that bothered him almost as much as all the other stuff.
A hand on his shoulder startled him out of his thoughts. He swung around to face Bryce’s laughing features. “You planning on standing there all day gazing into space? Because, if not, you can buy me a coffee.”
“How come I get to do the buying?” Cameron asked as they crossed the road to The Daily Grind coffee shop.
“Why change the habit of a lifetime?” Bryce leaned on the counter as Cameron ordered. “Anyway, you owe me.”
“Vincente?” They took their drinks over to a table near the window.
“Who else?”
“What’s he done now?”
Bryce’s expression was long suffering. “Poking his nose in where it’s not wanted. When you divided up the responsibilities between us, it was clear I was to take charge of operations. Yet he insists on interfering with the distribution routes and driver’s schedules. As soon as I have them organized for the week ahead, I find out he’s changed things.”
“Why would he do that?” Cameron dragged his mind away from thoughts of Laurie and onto what Bryce was telling him with an effort. Vincente was always difficult. When they were growing up, he had always been conscious of his status as a half brother and jealous of the closeness between Cameron and Bryce. Their mother had done her best to make him feel included, but Vincente had resented Sandy Delaney. He insisted on seeing her as the woman who had usurped his mother’s place, even though his parents had been divorced for more than a year when Kane Delaney remarried. And despite the fact Giovanna Alberti—Vincente’s Italian mother had reverted to her maiden name as soon as the divorce papers were finalized—couldn’t wait to return to her home in Florence, declaring the wide-open spaces and sparse population of Wyoming stifled her spirit.
Cameron guessed that deep down Vincente blamed his father for Giovanna’s abandonment and that unhappiness had manifested itself as bitterness. It wasn’t the sort of conversation he could ever have with his half brother. They didn’t have a close enough relationship, but he sometimes wondered if Vincente recognized those emotions and regretted all those sour, wasted years.
Bryce shrugged. “You know what he’s like. He can’t help himself. How would he like it if I went into his office and started altering the company accounts?”
Cameron stifled a sigh. “You want me to speak to him?” Vincente had always been jealous of Cameron, labeling his brother their father’s favorite, and blaming Cameron for his own failings. Despite this, Cameron was the only person his stubborn, hotheaded older brother had ever listened to.
“Would you?” The frown cleared from Bryce’s brow.
“I’ll stop by the office tomorrow morning.”
* * *
While she was undercover, Laurie steered clear of the internet. Even when she wasn’t working, she adhered to a strict code of conduct. She was scrupulously careful and never did anything that left a trail. On this job, she had an encrypted laptop that she used to keep in touch with Moreton and Mike Samuels, Moreton’s boss and her only other FBI contact. Moreton assured her the security on her laptop was cast-iron. No one would be able to trace her, and only someone with specialist skills would be able to get through the firewall. Laurie powered the machine up now, tapping an impatient finger as she waited for it to start.
Xavier-Quentin Fontaine. It was hardly a common name. If Deanna Milligan was with him, it should be fairly easy to find out. Laurie started with Deanna’s social media accounts. Chillingly, they hadn’t been touched since she went missing. It could mean she didn’t want to be found, of course. But, prior to her disappearance, Deanna had been very active online, documenting every detail of her daily life from what she had for breakfast to pictures each time she changed her nail polish. It was most unusual for people to alter their habits so dramatically. And Deanna had been close to her friends and family. Even though Sarah had disliked Xavier-Quentin, there was no real reason for Deanna to completely lose touch with her mother. And it seemed odd she wouldn’t keep in touch with other people she knew.
So,