A Very Daring Christmas (The Tavonesi Series Book 8) (14 page)

Cameron told her the concise information that Linda had sent in the briefing docs—all about the need for clean water in the villages and about the lives that would be saved.

“The Water for Life project is a model program. It will show that getting safe drinking water to even the most remote regions is doable. The technology is there, but the political willpower and the funds aren’t. Not yet.” She stopped. Linda had cautioned her not to come down too hard on the Dominian government and on the bureaucrats wasting time while people suffered and died.

“What was it like, in the villages?”

Cameron told her about the clinic. About the children who wouldn’t have to suffer from dysentery if only there was better hygiene, better education and a source of clean water.

Vi frowned at her glass. “I never really thought about all this before, that people—kids—didn’t have water that was safe to drink.” She smiled at Cameron. “Did you have any fun down there?”

The girl—Cameron couldn’t help but think of her that way even though they were probably only a few years apart—had won her heart. “Well... I did do a bit of dancing.”

“With anyone fun?”

“Off the record?”

“Of course.” Vi put her pen down. “Sisterhood, right?”

“I danced with one very intriguing man.” And just like that she was back in those first electric moments with Jake in Dominia. Memories and sensations flooded her.

“Dancing is my
favorite
pastime.” Vi wriggled in her seat. “You can lose yourself in it.” She tilted her head. “Did he steal your heart?”

“Ah... No. Not really. He was a ballplayer.” She laughed, but as the memories raced in, she remembered Jake’s harsh accusation at her cottage and, her smile faded. “An arrogant superstar. I swear that the next man in my life will be a regular guy. You know, the kind who doesn’t know a thing about films and ratings and Hollywood. Maybe a guy who knows how to build things. Or fix things.”

Vi giggled. “Let me know if you find one of those men—especially if the one you find has a twin brother. LA is short on regular guys and way too full of arrogance.”

Vi’s phone sounded. She glanced at the screen. “Jeez, I can’t believe this. I have to run. They only give me half an hour for lunch. They work us lowly interns like slaves.” She tucked her notebook and phone in her purse. “Now, they may not use this at
Vanity Fair
. But I have a couple places that
are
interested if I can’t get my editor to bite. It’ll be big, I guarantee.”

A clear ring of a bell sounded in Cameron’s brain. Intern? Not running in
Vanity Fair
? Maybe she was just being paranoid. She’d be calling her agent as soon as Vi left the café, that was for sure.

“You have the photos my agent sent?”

“Oh, yes. They’re great. I loved the one of you with the kids. So sweet. And I found some others I like.”

“How about you run this by me? I can have my agent fact-check it for you.” Cameron’s self-preservation instinct was waking up from the spell she’d been under.

“Sure thing.” Vi jumped up from the table. “Thank you so much. You have no idea how hot this will be.”

And that was exactly what was beginning to trouble Cameron. She must’ve been out of her mind to speak so frankly about her personal life.

When she arrived home, Cameron texted Roberta and then remembered that she’d gone to Saint Barts for Hanukkah. That would explain why her first two calls had gone to voice mail. Just as she was boarding the plane, Roberta texted back.

Rothstein at VF changed his mind. He thinks a cover for you in March when your next film is in production would be better. Of course I said yes! It’s lovely down here. But I miss my cat. Crazy, huh?

Though Cameron wanted to know why
Vanity Fair
had sent an intern to do an interview if she was going to have a cover, she didn’t want to spoil Roberta’s vacation. She hadn’t taken time off for over two years and deserved the break. Besides, maybe she was just being paranoid. Vi had seemed like an honest type. Young and eager, but genuine. Maybe she’d gotten caught in the mix-up as well. But the niggle in Cameron’s belly told her she was fooling herself.

Great. A cover, thanks. Have fun for me!
Cameron texted back.

She almost added a smiley face, but it wouldn’t have been honest, so she just pressed Send. Then she called
Vanity Fair
. The receptionist reported there was no Vivienne Thomas at the magazine. When she asked about interns, the woman put her on hold. When she returned, she told Cameron that there was no one by that name in the intern program either. Cameron knew from the receptionist’s tone that probing would do no good; they hadn’t sent Vi, or whatever her name really was. She’d been had.

So much for the sisterhood.

A little research would turn up the UNICAN information. The girl had been savvy to lead with that. And Cameron should’ve known to shut up as soon as personal information was on the table.

There was nothing she could do about the information she’d shared too freely. Some lessons came harder than others. Like the one she’d learned from Jake Ryder. Letting him into her heart had been her worst move yet.

When she got to Trovare later in the week, she’d ask Sabrina to help her figure out who to call to get some fast press in opinion-shaping venues for the project in Dominia. And she’d sink herself into a Christmas season in the country and try to forget about Jake.

Jake’s mother swiped her passport out of his hands.

“Don’t look at that. They didn’t tell me when they were taking the picture.”

Jake laughed. He hadn’t thought his mother had a vain cell in her body. But the trip to Europe—to spend Christmas in Rome—had her razzed.

“Mom, only Italian immigration agents will see it. You’re not out to impress them, are you?”

“
I
know what that photo looks like,” she huffed. “And it doesn’t expire for
ten
years.” She wiped her hands on her apron and gestured to the stove. “I’m going to pick up your dad. All you have to do is turn the chicken when the bottom side is nice and golden brown. And don’t forget to turn off the oven when the timer sounds.” She narrowed her eyes. “Am I crazy to leave you alone in the kitchen?”

“It’s only for half an hour.”

“Your track record isn’t good.”

“Mom.”

“Okay, okay. I always told your dad that even boys need cooking lessons. But oh, no—he spent every spare minute throwing balls at you.”

“Those balls are getting you to Rome.” He’d paid for his parents’ trip, first class all the way. They’d never had a honeymoon. Coal miners living on the edge didn’t even dream of such luxuries.

She hugged him, nearly stopping his breath. She was just as strong as ever. A life of hard work had its drawbacks, but the pluses were stamina and strength. “That they are, honey. And your father and I are grateful.”

He’d had a helluva time getting his dad to agree to let him pay for the trip. Harder than getting his agreement to buy the house in the suburbs of Atlanta. But after Jake’s connections had helped his dad land a job as a mechanic for United Flyers in Atlanta, they’d needed new digs. And Atlanta real estate was out of his parents’ league, even with his dad’s better salary. He’d had his accountant tell them that Jake needed the tax deduction. The white lie had smoothed the way. He respected his dad’s pride. Hell, he respected everything about the man.

“The way I calculate it, it’s justified payback,” Jake said with a wink. “Let’s see, I figured it once. A million hours of backyard ball multiplied by minimum wage—”

His mom pulled away and swatted him with the dish towel she pulled from her shoulder. “Now don’t go getting your head all big. You’ll still have to do the dishes.”

After she left, he stared at the skillet of bubbling oil and chicken. Piece of cake. He grabbed a pair of tongs and turned a leg. Perfectly browned. With swift strokes, he turned a few more pieces. When his phone vibrated in his pocket, he one-handed the tongs, then pulled out the phone and glanced at the display.

Pain licked at his knuckles at the same time he heard chicken splat into the oil. He looked up to see a flame leaping up from the gas burner. He dropped the phone to the counter, watching as oil caught fire where it had spilled across the stovetop.

Cursing, he grabbed the closest thing at hand—his mother’s apron—and swatted at the flames. The apron caught fire. Damn, he hadn’t seen the lace at the hem. The stove flames were out, but he had to toss the apron in the sink and douse it good.

Smoke hovered near the ceiling, licking a trail of gray around a perfectly silent smoke alarm. He threw open the back door and winged it on its hinges to clear the air, drive the smoke out. The smell of burning chicken stopped him midmotion.

Hell, hell and more hell. He turned off the flame under the skillet and surveyed the damage. The chicken was burned on only one side, so not a total loss. They could just eat from the side that wasn’t burned. He yanked off a length of paper towels and folded them onto a plate. With each piece arranged burned side down, the chicken looked just fine.
Not
. He cursed again.

He’d take a ribbing, but at least they wouldn’t go hungry.

Limitations
.

He sucked in the kitchen. A man had to be honest about what he could and couldn’t do. He knew his limitations and usually didn’t waste energy dipping into endeavors that he’d studied and judged not for him.

Like cooking. And kids. And backdoor sliders.

And Cameron Kelley.

The toot of a horn sounded. He put the plate of chicken on the kitchen table. His old man would have a field day taking the piss out of him.

His dad grabbed him in a bear hug. There wasn’t anything Jake wouldn’t do for either of his parents. They’d taught him to work for his dreams and done everything they could to help along the way. They’d made him keep his grades up so he could get a scholarship from a college with a good baseball program. Had nearly cried when he was accepted at USC. They’d scraped to send his sister and brother to decent colleges. Dana was a senior engineer at NASA, thanks to the education they’d insisted upon and saved for. And thanks to the encouragement they’d laid on their kids in healthy doses.

“Margaret told me she left you in the kitchen.”

His parents often called themselves by their first names. As if they were determined not to allow their relationship be completely engulfed by their roles as parents. It had sometimes bothered Jake as a child, but now, as an adult, he respected that they had kept their individuality and their romance alive.

“Thought I’d test your smoke alarm.”

His dad laughed, and the tension in Jake’s shoulder blades eased up.

“It’s not working, by the way.”

“Probably didn’t get the message you were coming. Haven’t needed the darn thing till now.”

“Lordy, Jake, what did you do to my favorite apron?”

They sat down to dinner, and he entertained them with a blow-by-blow. Until that moment, he’d forgotten about the phone call that had started it all. He sneaked a look at his phone. Not Cameron. Of course not. He didn’t want to talk to her anyway, did he? Aderro had left a message.

“No phones at this table.” His mom’s usually soft voice was stern. “Told your sister that too. The world can wait for the time of a meal.”

She’d always had clear rules, rules that made sense. He had too, before Cameron.

“You ever miss the South, son?” His dad had a knack for moving a conversation along.

“Nah. There are guys on the team from North Carolina and Kentucky. We go backpacking sometimes.”

“Ben’s been thinking we might retire to California,” his mother said.

Jake nearly choked on the sweet tea he’d gulped.

“We’d like to be close to our grandkids.”

“They rent grandkids in California?”

“That’s not funny, Jake Ryder.” When his mother used his whole name, he always knew he’d stepped in too deep.

“Don’t look at me, you know I’m not cut out for all that. What about Dana?”

“I know nothing of the sort. And I don’t know where you get that idea. And Dana? She’s more hopeless than you are.” His mother sighed dramatically. “She would move to the space station before she considered a family.”

“Don’t hold your breath, Mom. Not interested.”

His dad kept strangely silent.

“Did you get the photos I sent you of the villa I booked outside Rome?” he asked them both.

His mom took his hand in hers. “I still wish you’d come along. If only for Christmas. With Dana coming for the holidays, I hate leaving you alone.”

“I’m going up to a teammate’s place. It’s in the country.”

“That boy with the castle?” His dad shook his head. “What can anybody need with a castle?”

“I can train while I’m there. We have a buddy with a gym. And a batting cage.”

“Now you’re talkin’. Better way to spend money if you ask me.”

The next morning Jake dropped his mom off at the hairdresser’s. It was a gorgeous December day, and he decided to drive out into the country. He shifted the clunker truck his dad had insisted on keeping into gear and headed out. He had two hours—long enough to clear his head. The message from Aderro had been bad news. They’d lost the lease on the land for the Superplayer Academy.