What's A Housekeeper To Do? / Tipping the Waitress with Diamonds: What's A Housekeeper To Do? / Tipping the Waitress with Diamonds

Instead, Cam wanted to kiss Lally right there at the base of her neck, to inhale the scent of her skin and brush his lips over the side of her neck and across her face. He felt ridiculously proud that he’d been able to distract her about the cost of the bag. ‘Don’t tell anyone what ideas I have in mind for the heroine.’ He winked. ‘I have to keep the book’s secrets until it hits the shelves, otherwise my career as a writer is over.’

‘I won’t tell a soul.’ She crossed her heart with her fingers, joining in the fun. ‘I guess it’s all right to confess I’m enjoying the dress, and I love the shoes. I had a pair that were similar when I was fresh out of high school.’ Lally made this admission almost guiltily. ‘They were cheaper, and not quite as pretty, but they made me feel…’

‘Beautiful? You are.’

Maybe he shouldn’t have said it—probably he shouldn’t have said it—but the words were out.

‘Thank you.’ Lally registered Cam’s words and tried not to let her feelings melt. If she simply felt complimented, that would be okay, still manageable. The charming man tells the girl she looks great, the girl appreciates his words of admiration and takes them for what they are: a compliment. The same as he might give to any other woman while they were working on an unusual project together.

But she didn’t feel only complimented; she felt Cam’s awareness of her, and hers of him. She felt the consciousness that flowed back and forth between them that had been beneath the surface from the start of the night, but hidden under the excitement and fun factor of their research and role-playing.

That consciousness was there. Even now as they sat here, Cam’s upper body leaned forward as though he’d like to close the distance of the table that separated them and press a soft kiss to her lips.

Lally’s body leaned in too, until she forcibly stopped herself and straightened her spine.

She had to remember that Cameron Travers was her employer, not a man she would like to melt into, to kiss and be kissed by.

‘We should choose something to eat.’ Lally dropped her gaze to the menu; she flipped it open and stared blindly at the entrées. ‘Do you need us to choose anything specific for research purposes?’

‘No. Just choose what you’d like to eat.’ Cam, too, turned his attention to his menu.

You see? They were being perfectly sensible.

Eventually the list of dishes unscrambled itself enough that Lally could read it: tuscan prawns; artichoke and sweet-potato soup—Cam would avoid that one—lamb, leek and bread broth; baked cheese bites in puff pastry with a dark-plum dipping sauce.

‘I think I’ll have the broth.’ Lally rejected the appeal of spicy prawns, of sensually melted cheese in pastry. ‘Yes, the broth. Something healthy and ordinary. It seems exactly what I’d like.’

She was a sensible, ordinary girl, after all, even if she had allowed herself to be swept up in the purchase of a lovely dress and a pair of stunning shoes.

Over all, Lally had progressed past being influenced by emotions, sudden whims or anything else uncontrolled.

Sam had taught her that lesson—well, in truth, the pain she had caused out of knowing him had taught her. Lally’s good cheer wobbled.

In that moment Cam glanced at her, smiled and said softly, ‘Thank you, Lally, for being such a good sport tonight. I’ve really enjoyed myself, enjoyed the research. I’ve got ideas coming into focus in my mind. You’ve helped me to get the muse back on track.’

‘You’re welcome. It’s been my pleasure to help you.’ Lally pushed those other unhappy thoughts far away.

Cameron’s eyes moved over his menu, but a smile lingered on his face. After that he led the conversation onto the topic of his property development; maybe he knew she needed that easing of tension.

He talked about the challenge of obtaining good workers in locations all around Australia wherever he purchased properties to develop, and the properties themselves. Lally relaxed and her happiness came back.

‘You’ve certainly developed some interesting projects over the years. Several of my family members might be interested in the art gallery you mentioned in the tourist township on the Queensland coast.’ Some of them might like to have work exhibited there, if the gallery manager was interested.

Their entrées arrived and Lally dipped her spoon into the broth. It was thick with chunks of lamb, loaded with fresh colourful vegetables, and the aroma was spicy. She took the first taste onto her tongue and closed her eyes while the flavours exploded on her palate.

Cameron cut a piece from a Tuscan prawn, popped it into his mouth and chewed. He gestured towards her soup bowl. ‘How is it?’

‘Fabulously interesting and totally yummy.’ Lally smiled in wry acceptance. She was wearing a beautiful red dress and killer heels—would it really hurt for her to eat exciting food too?

They talked about nothing much. It should have been totally unthreatening; instead, a rising consciousness seemed to fill the air between them once again until every breath she took held the essence of that consciousness, whether Lally felt ready to feel like that or not.

When Cam picked up his fork and knife, Lally realised they’d both been sitting there staring at each other in unmoving silence.

At what point had they put down their implements and simply sat in quiet stillness?

Almost…like lovers.

The way you used to stare at Sam across a dinner table, totally besotted, and with no thought for anything beyond the smooth words, smoother smiles and the looks he used to send your way?

‘How, um, how would your heroine behave at this point of the evening?’ They’d finished the entrées; Lally sipped her water and told herself she had to do better than this.

‘Here we are.’ A waiter deftly reordered their table setting and offered Cam a choice of wines to go with their main course. Cam had chosen flame-grilled steak; Lally, Barramundi fillets with a creamy herbed-lemon dressing.

‘I’d like Chardonnay, please.’ Lally felt pleased that her voice sounded normal. They’d opted out of the wine to start with, and she’d appreciated that too.

Cameron examined the labels of the wines the waiter had brought and approved a Chardonnay for Lally and a red for himself. The waiter poured and left, and they started their meals.

Cam answered her question then. ‘The heroine would be doing her best to distract the hero and keep his mind jumping so he doesn’t have time to wonder what she’s up to.’ He glanced at his plate and then hers. ‘For us, for now, I’d like descriptions of the food so I can use the dishes in the book, I think. I can see the characters eating these meals.’

‘Oh—okay. The fish is moist and flaky; the sauce is tart enough to balance the creaminess.’ Lally did her best to describe the combination of textures and tastes.

She could see Cam making mental notes, and she tried to feel that they’d left behind their consciousness of each other, but it felt as though it still simmered beneath the surface.

There had to be some way to stop that simmering. It was inappropriate for her to simmer in this setting.

And if your boss is simmering?

Well, Lally didn’t know—and what were they anyway, a matching set of human saucepans?

‘Do you think you’ll take on other property-development projects in Adelaide?’ Yes, that was the way to express an everyday, businesslike interest and nothing more—ask a question that made her sound as though she wanted to be assured he wouldn’t be leaving after a few short weeks!

‘Tell me about your family. You mentioned art and restaurants.’

Cam spoke at the same time. They both stopped. He brushed his hand over the back of his neck.

If Lally got started on family, they would still be here when the place closed for the night. And she did want to know what his future plans might be, even if that made her nosy.

‘I may take on further projects here.’ Cam didn’t seem to make too much of her question. He started to talk about other buildings in various parts of Adelaide. ‘There’s a block of apartments, dilapidated but in an area that I know would resell really well. I put an offer in on those earlier today.’

As though there was nothing exciting or fascinating about buying up another building; perhaps to him there wasn’t. He bought and sold in dollar figures she could only dream about. She found his ability to write stories fascinating, too, his imagination and his interest in hands-on research. The dimple in his chin, the groove on his forehead…

Are not fascinating, Lally!

All right, fine; as a person, Cameron Travers was interesting—complex, busy, bordering on workaholic. And an insomniac. And, for whatever reason, Lally found all of this a little too intriguing for her own calm and controlled state of mind.

They made their way through the remainder of the meal. Cameron occasionally jotted notes on a small note-pad he drew from his trouser pocket, but Lally felt as though his attention never left her, never left them. Which was quite silly, because this wasn’t about her or them.

Finally, they finished the last sip of their coffee. Lally pushed away her half-eaten dessert of a profiterole filled with crème custard and coated in crunchy strands of caramelised sugar. ‘That’s delicious, but I can’t fit it all in.’

Cam patted his flat stomach and pushed the platter of cheese and crackers into the middle of the table. ‘I’m done there too.’ He glanced at his watch and met her gaze with eyes that were piercing and interested, weary, alert and conscious of her all at once. ‘It’s after eleven. Will you come and do the final step of tonight’s adventure with me now?’

Deep tone. Words meant to be about his work. Expression that was somewhat about that. Yet…

‘That’s what we’re here for.’ Lally agreed while her senses were in a muddle reacting to him.

She agreed before her brain engaged at all, really. That was dangerous, as was the feel of his arm holding her fingers tucked against his side as they left the restaurant after he paid for their meal. She could feel the muscles over his ribs moving as he walked; his skin beneath his shirt was warm against the back of her fingers.

He felt lean and fit—he was lean and fit—and gorgeous and appealing into the bargain. Lally shouldn’t be feeling these responses to him because she needed to protect herself. She was not ready to tackle another relationship with a man, and, even if she was, that man wasn’t going to be a millionaire, incredibly focused, fabulous and famous temporary boss: Cam was way out of her league.

So, what was she about, leaning against his side this way?

They climbed into a service lift that took them to the top of the hotel.

‘It’s only five storeys high, but I do want to go all the way to the roof for this.’ Cameron said it almost as though he felt he should apologise for this fact.

‘Whatever works best for your story.’ Lally told herself she had overcome her momentary lapse, that she had herself well in hand now.

That theory lasted until she looked into Cameron’s eyes and her pulse started to throb at her wrists and at the base of her neck. And—oh, it was silly—she suddenly she felt a bit…nervous too.

‘That’s exactly what I wanted to see, Lally—the edge of caution, even though at this stage you don’t believe you’re in any true danger.’ His words were a glide of consonants and cadence that crossed her senses like the brush of velvet over her skin. ‘That’s a look I can describe for my heroine to good effect in the book.’

The lift stopped and they stepped out onto the flat rooftop area of the building. Cam glanced around and led her towards the edge with a firm grip on her arm. ‘You don’t suffer from vertigo or anything like that?’

‘No. I don’t.’ Even so, Lally made no bones about leaning into his firm hold now; it was a long drop to ground level. Too bad if that made her look clingy just at the moment. ‘What?’

‘Look at the drop for me. Then we’re going to act out…’ He led her close enough that she could look over.

As Lally truly registered that they stood five storeys up on a deserted rooftop late at night, her imagination kicked in. What did Cam plan to write about this setting? What did he want her to do?

Lally glanced at her boss, and adrenalin and excitement coursed through her veins. It seemed necessary to speak in a hushed tone, and she whispered, ‘This is going to be a real rush, isn’t it? Like skydiving or something. My instincts are telling me it will be exciting. My heart’s in my throat already and I don’t even know yet.’

‘I don’t know what you’ll think.’ His fingers tightened their hold around her arm. ‘But we’re going to find out.’

CHAPTER SIX

‘YOU’LL be completely safe, Lally, but you may not feel safe for a moment or two.’ Cam’s gaze searched her face.

‘Whatever it is, I’m ready.’ Lally ignored the breathless edge to her voice and the nervous tension that went with it.

Cam clasped his fingers loosely about her elbows. ‘This would all happen very fast. She wouldn’t have time to think, but for the point of this exercise I’ll talk you through some of it. I want your thoughts on what her reactions would be.’

It was automatic for Lally’s hands to come up and splay against his chest through the cloth of his dinner jacket. The evening bag was over one of her wrists. ‘I think your heroine would feel her heart-rate speed up, and she would tell herself to be careful. Be very careful.’

Cameron’s glance rested briefly on her mouth. ‘She doesn’t know whether he intends to kiss her, attack her, accuse her, hold her at gunpoint, try to overpower her or throw her over the edge. Is he on to her secrets?’

‘And is she on to his?’

No sooner had Lally got the question out than Cam drew her back a little from the edge. He swept her up in his arms in a lightning-fast move. One hand came under the back of her thighs, the other cupped behind her shoulders. Her handbag was jammed between their bodies. His face was inches from hers.

They were a safe distance from the edge but, oh, it didn’t feel safe in those first moments. Lally caught her breath and a soft gasp of sound left her parted lips. Her free hand locked around the back of his neck.

‘Easy.’ Cam felt Lally’s arm lock around the muscles in his neck, and he took two long steps, not towards the edge but parallel to it. ‘Sorry. I need to know how my male lead would feel carrying her.’

‘If he’s doing it to get closer to the edge, she’d be fighting him.’ Lally’s words brushed against his temple and cheek. ‘She’d struggle to get free.’

Lally was tense, but not struggling.

Cam had to think about his characters. The research. He could see the characters clearly in his mind.

That was great; his instincts told him he would be able to write this scene. He had his female character fixed now, defined, he knew who she was and that she would work well for his story. That issue was resolved for Cam.

What wasn’t resolved was his desire for the woman in his arms. That had been getting further and further away from his control since they’d first schemed this idea up earlier today. Maybe the excitement of it, the sheer fun of planning and executing it, was why Cam hadn’t controlled his other responses to Lally very well.

‘Yes, she would struggle to get free, but I’ll deal with working that out for myself or we can role-play it elsewhere. Even though we’re away from the edge, I don’t want to risk losing my balance or anything while we’re up here.’ He tried to sound focused and interested in the research. Not distracted…

‘If he does intend to throw her, the best thing she could do is refuse to release her hold on him, unless he was prepared to go over with her.’ Lally made this observation with what judiciousness she could find in the face of her distraction. Being held this way, held close to Cam’s broad chest, made thinking difficult. ‘Or unless he had the capacity to subdue her some other way before he tossed her over.’

In tandem with her words, Lally’s hand locked harder about his neck.

Cam moved his body enough to allow her to get her other hand free. ‘In the scene, she would struggle to get that hand loose.’

Lally added it to her hold about his neck. ‘So she’d hold on like this?’

‘At this stage, yes.’ God, his voice was way too deep, and his entire body seemed utterly focused on what he held.

And what he held was Lally Douglas in a flowing, beautiful dress that made her look both sultry and alluring. He felt the brush of the soft fabric over his hand where he held her in his arms; the hem wrapped around his trouser legs. He held Lally, her face upturned towards his, excitement and an edge of uncertainty stamped on that face.

It was not because she didn’t feel safe with him. There was apprehension of another kind, the sort a person felt when they entered uncharted territory with someone they found attractive.

Are you cataloguing her reactions now, Travers, or your reactions to her?

Cam stopped walking and murmured, ‘She would quite probably try to reach for the gun in her purse.’

‘Yes.’ Her words whispered into the stillness. She didn’t move.

Cam’s focus was on her face, his gaze touching on each feature—eyes, cheeks, nose, finally lingering on her mouth. His look, filled with want, desire and something perhaps deeper than both of those things, drew Lally’s gaze to his eyes and locked it there. Her breath stilled all over again. All around them was darkness and city silence, which was no silence at all, but it still shrouded them in isolation here while the world went by below.

Darkness and aloneness and consciousness.

Cam’s gaze met hers once more in the dimness, and everything slid into a different place for Lally. The evening; the slow meal and their talk about his writing and work projects; her determination not to look too deeply into herself: it had all mixed in together and blurred into this one moment that was so much more than the compilation of those parts. That really had nothing at all to do with those parts.

‘I shouldn’t have picked you up like this.’ He murmured the words, but he didn’t let her go.

Instead his hand wrapped more firmly behind her shoulders and he shifted to stand with his legs splayed apart.

His head lowered towards her. ‘Tell me not to…’

‘Not to…?’ But Lally knew. She looked into his eyes and she couldn’t say the words. How could she say those words to Cam when his gaze was on her this way, desire stamped across his cheekbones, burned into the shadows beneath his eyes, etched over lips that softened and dipped towards hers?

She should say no. She needed to protect her emotions and not take risks, but Lally could only wait while her lips softened in anticipation.

And then he was there. The kiss she had secretly longed for was happening.

His lips tasted faintly of coffee, and were both firm and gentle as he softly kissed her, oh, so softly, as though they had all the time in the world and all he wanted to do was this.

She’d thought she was holding her own, that she had control over this evening with him. That she had at least held on to a little of what it was all about, remembered they were doing this for his research and no other reason.

Well, this didn’t feel like research. Her lips softened beneath his and when he slid her slowly down his body until her feet touched concrete it felt natural and right to let his arms close around her, to step fully into his embrace and let the kiss take them where it would.

Cam made a soft sound in the back of his throat. He deepened their kiss, his lips caressing hers, moulding to hers, tasting and giving and taking. One hand splayed against the small of her back; the long, lean fingers of the other wrapped around her jaw.

Lally responded with a deepening of desire for him, but she also softened for him. Her emotions melted into a puddle inside her; if he’d wanted, he could have walked straight in and…

Well, she wasn’t sure. Taken whatever he wanted? Hurt her because she wasn’t ready to trust a man again, wasn’t sure she could ever do that again? She wasn’t sure she could trust herself.

Lally became conscious of just how intimately they were pressed together; their bodies were flush against each other from chest to knee. Cam’s fingers were stroking up and down her bare shoulders and back. Hers—were in his hair, clasping his shoulder while her entire body seemed to strain for closeness with his.

Oh, Lally. What are you thinking?

Lally forced her mouth to leave his, her body to draw back. Each action felt as though it took an aeon to execute. She shouldn’t feel anything towards Cam, not in this way. He was her boss; she was his employee. Lally felt panicked.

Think how Cam kissed you, Lally. How he drew a response from you so easily and so thoroughly, made you feel as though you were receiving your first ever real kiss.

Sam had made her feel that way. With Sam, it had been her first ever kiss. First kiss, first everything.

That was hardly the point here.

Well, what was the point? She couldn’t let herself be affected by what they had shared in these moments. She couldn’t let herself care again—

Lally forced herself to meet Cam’s gaze and opened her mouth to speak, to play this down, to say something about work or characterisation or research.

Anything.

But her lips still tingled from the press of his. Even now her body begged her to step back into his embrace, to take their kiss even further, prolong the closeness and connection.

Finally Lally found words. ‘I’m not looking for an involvement. Not that I’m suggesting you are. This…We forgot ourselves for a moment. There’s no need to make a fuss about it, but it mustn’t happen again; it’s not wise. You’re a busy man with loads on your plate, and your struggle to sleep to deal with, let alone a recalcitrant muse and a highly demanding business in Sydney. And I work for you!’

‘I know.’ He swallowed hard. Regret etched lines into his face that hadn’t been there before. ‘I understand all of that, Lally. It was wrong of me to kiss you. I’m not looking for a relationship. I don’t—that’s not in my agenda, and it’s not smart to mix work with that anyway. And you’re quite right. You wouldn’t want…’

Whatever he’d been about to say, he cut the words off, but the message was there anyway. He agreed with her. This kiss shouldn’t have happened. They had to respect the boundaries of their working relationship. He didn’t want her, not really. Not like that.

Lally drew a breath and blurted, ‘I didn’t mean to set up this night to lead to this.’

‘I know.’ His words were deep and genuine. ‘I had a problem with my writing, you thought of a great solution. We both got excited about it and in that excitement, for a few moments, we forgot ourselves.’

His summary of events left out a few things—such as the way they’d both become more aware of each other as the evening had worn on—but Lally nodded. ‘That’s right. I’m glad we got that sorted out.’ She forced a relieved smile. ‘Phew. Well, are we finished here? Do you have what you need for your research? Maybe we should head home—I mean, back to your property development.’

‘I have everything I need.’ Cam watched emotions flit across Lally’s face and felt them churn inside him. Kissing her had been amazing. Yes, he’d made all sorts of comments on how that had come about and why it shouldn’t have and everything else. Those comments were real and true; they just weren’t all of it. And they didn’t even begin to touch on how he’d felt inside himself as a result of these shared moments. Cam didn’t want to examine those feelings, but the thoughts came anyway.

He’d kissed her softly in a way he had never kissed any other woman. He’d kissed Lally after trying to ignore the need to do it all night. He’d kissed her to pay homage to her beauty and how lovely she looked in that dress. He’d done it because something inside him had needed to.