The Dysfunctional Test (14 page)

“I’m joking,” he said. “No mating ritual, I promise. Stay in the bathroom. In fact, stay in your robe. Give me ten minutes to set up and I’ll call you out.”

She narrowed her eyes before she complied and shut the door.

Grabbing the breakfast tray, he ran downstairs to fetch the other stuff. He wound up having to make two trips. As fast as possible, so she didn’t come out and ruin his surprise, he set up his mock Paris. Not bad for no notice. Nodding, he called her name.

She emerged from the bathroom and halted, staring at the red scarf around his neck and the black beret on his head. Then she laughed, the sound so soothing and rich he wanted to weep. God, he loved her laugh.

“You need one of those thin little mustaches,” she said.

She stepped back into the bathroom and came out holding what looked like one of Emily’s coloring tools. She drew a thin line under each of his nostrils and stepped back to examine her handiwork, only to laugh again. Hell, he’d dress like a mime and do parlor tricks if she kept laughing like this.

“Your table awaits, madame,” he said in his best attempt at a French accent. Bowing, he gestured toward the balcony where he set up a TV tray and two chairs. It wasn’t a cafe table overlooking the Seine, but it would do.

“Oh, that was a terrible French accent,” she said, laughing. Her whole face lit up this time. “You mustn’t do that again.”

An unfamiliar pressure weighed his chest down as he straightened. He’d never seen her like this. Happy. Not concerned over what she said, not censoring her actions or responses. Just Cam. Free.

And he was wrong. Back at his house he’d thought she was cute. Attractive even, in a girl-next-door sort of way. But no, she was way more than that. She was beautiful. How had he not noticed this before?

“Here,” he said, handing over another beret. She stared at it, so he placed it on her head.

“What’s that out there?” she asked, walking toward the balcony.

He cleared his throat. “Crepes with cherry cream filling, croissants and cheese, and espresso. They didn’t have soufflé. Sorry.”

She stared down at the table. “It looks so good. Where did you find all this?”

“There’s a bakery in town. My cholesterol skyrocketed just by smelling the pastries. Apparently cheese is very popular in France.”

“It is. There are more than two hundred types of cheese. They’re also protected by law, so no one can reproduce them. They have strict quotas placed on how much can be produced yearly, in order to prevent the value of a cheese decreasing.”

He swore she said this stuff just to make others feel like idiots. It turned him on. “How do you remember all this stuff?”

She shrugged. “I’m a plethora for useless information. I remember most everything I read. Or hear.”

“Well, that’s just a sharp cheddar cheese. Pretend it’s fancy or something.”

Smiling, she sat down. He poured them both a cup of espresso from a carafe and stepped inside. He came back out with a framed poster of the Eiffel Tower, leaning it against the railing, and keeping his other hand behind his back.

She looked at him with raised brows. “Nice.”

“Walmart,” he said. “They have an excellent poster collection. If you like, I can go back and get a Justin Beiber one.”

She laughed, sipping her coffee. “I’ll pass.”

Bringing his other hand from behind his back, he held out the bouquet of flowers. The smile fell from her face as she stared at them. Shoot. She didn’t like them. “I didn’t know what kind you liked, so I got a mix.”

Slowly, she set her cup down and reached for the bouquet. “You got me flowers?”

“Every woman should get flowers. Even if they stink up the house, as you say.”

One corner of her mouth quirked. “I don’t have a flower preference.”

“Every woman needs a favorite flower. Like a favorite color or candy. It’s a must.”

“I don’t have a favorite color either. These are beautiful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. One more thing.” He ran in, then back out holding DVDs. “You have your choice between
Forget Paris
with Billy Crystal,
Midnight in Paris
by Woody Allen, or
Beauty and the Beast
.”

She looked at the Disney movie. “
Beauty and the Beast
?”

He shrugged. “It’s set in France. Emily made me watch it three times the last time I babysat.”

Ah, there was the smile again.

“I’m not a Woody Allen fan.
Forget Paris
, I guess.” She took a bite of the crepe and threw her head back, moaning. “This is fantastic.”

He grew hard instantly. He sat down so she wouldn’t notice. “Better than sex?”

“Oh, most definitely.”

He grinned. “Then you’re doing it wrong.” The smile disappeared again. Realizing what he said, and how she probably interpreted the comment, he called her name so she’d look at him. “Then
they
were doing it wrong,” he corrected.

Acknowledging him with a nod, she broke off a piece of croissant and took a bite. “I used to feel sorry for your girlfriends, with you having so many, or how fast you go through them. But now I’m rethinking that. Do you do this sort of thing for all your women?”

No. Flowers, yes. Nice dinner, yes. Planning a whole afternoon to transport them to a European city just for the hell of it, never. “First, I only date one woman at a time, and she gets my sole attention. And two, we’re fake dating. The rules don’t apply here.” Though he spoke the truth, that last part felt like a lie. He wasn’t even sure if he said it for her benefit or his. Something was changing between them.

She studied him, the croissant in hand halfway to her mouth. His gaze dropped to that mouth, remembering just how well she used it for something other than trivia knowledge. If he kissed her now, he’d taste her, mixed with the buttery croissant.

After several elongated minutes, she looked away. “Well, either way, this was very thoughtful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She pulled the beret off her head, and set it on the table, then picked up a napkin. She leaned over and wiped the fake mustache off his lip. Having her that close again made him want to grab her wrist and yank her into his lap. He’d show her what Paris was really known for.

It wouldn’t stop at a kiss then.

They were getting into dangerous territory here. At least he was. If this kept up, he wouldn’t be able to control this want much longer. Then all hell would break loose.

He took a croissant and bit into it, just to have something to do with his mouth besides kiss her. And damn it, kissing her was much more preferable.

She finished her crepe, moan-free this time, and sipped her espresso. “I’m wondering how you expect me to sit through a movie after drinking espresso.”

“They make decaf. Seems pointless to me. It’s essentially a strong decaf brew slapped with the name espresso.”

She stared into her cup. “I didn’t know that. It tastes the same.”

“Well, there you go. You don’t know everything, smartypants.”

At least Troy let her go downstairs for dinner after the movie when she said her headache was gone. As interesting and fun as the day was, she was going stir crazy in the room. The family chatted their way through dinner, not noticing her at all. Though a rarity, it was just the way she preferred it.

Jackie, one of the Hortons’ staff, came up behind her. “Is something wrong, miss?”

Camryn glanced down at her plate, and then back to her. “No, I’m just not very hungry. I had a late lunch.” After those crepes, nothing would be as good anyway.

Nodding, the woman took the plate of shrimp stir-fry away.

Troy smiled from the seat next to her, having eaten only half his dinner. He’d finished off the croissants and cheese during the movie.

Exhausted from their day, everyone excused themselves for an early evening. Camryn, however, was wired. After spending her day doing nothing, which she admitted was nice, she needed to get some energy out.

“I think I’ll go for a walk,” she told Troy once the family left the room.

“I’ll come with you. Just give me a second to run upstairs.”

The man had to leave her alone at some point.

She stepped outside to wait for him, and examined the property. A couple hundred yards east was a heavily wooded area. It wasn’t too dark yet to check it out. Dusk was just settling in, the fireflies blinking. The humidity had faded, so a walk would be pleasant.

Troy came out moments later holding the red, silk scarf from before.

“Still in Paris?” she asked.

What he did earlier was single-handedly the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her. He fabricated a pretend Paris for her just so she’d rest. And rest she had. She could still smell the bouquet of flowers he gave her. The gesture shouldn’t make her this happy. No wonder women fell at his feet.

“It’s for an item on my list.”

There he goes again. The list. “Planning on tying me to a tree and leaving me for the wolves?”

“Something like that.”

She crossed her arms. He started walking.

After quite a few steps, he turned. “Coming?”

Resigned she walked next to him. “I thought we could head into the woods. See if there’s a trail.”

Nodding, he turned in that direction. When they came to the tree line, they discovered a hiking path. Under the canopy, the atmosphere changed. Though cooler, the humidity was heavier. Pine and moss hung heavily in the air as the small creatures stirred around them. A few rabbits, squirrels, and an owl just waking. She hoped to see a deer.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, their feet shuffling over the dried, fallen pine needles. Once around a bend, Troy stopped. “Here looks good.”

“For what?”

He grinned, holding up the scarf by the ends. “My experiment. Come here.”

When she refused, he stepped behind her, speaking over her shoulder. “You have to be in control of everything all the time. Sometimes it’s good to let go of that. Not everything has to have an order or purpose, Cam.”

And just how did he plan on releasing her supposed control?

She swallowed when he pressed flush against her back. He smelled like soap and sin. He felt better than sin. What was it with him? Why was she on hyper-alert whenever he was within two feet?

The red scarf came down over her eyes, and his mouth hovered over her ear. There was something so personal, so distinctly him when he talked to her. He didn’t allow for any breathing room. Normally she needed that foot of personal space. There was no personal space around Troy.

“I’m going to put a blindfold on, and you’re going to use your other senses. You’re going to depend on me to get through.”

She’d look like an idiot. Worse, feel like one. She didn’t need anything else negating that. “No, Troy.”

He paused. “Do you trust me?”

His breath fanned her neck, causing a ripple of need to pulse inside. Did she want him? God, yes. Did she know him well? Yes, more than anyone. But could she trust him?

“Yes.”

“Be quiet, then.” He tied the scarf behind her head, shutting out what little light was left. He stepped in front of her, sliding his hands up and down her arms. “I’m going to take a few steps back, follow my voice.”

“Troy, this is stupid. What is the point of this?”

He took a full fifteen seconds to answer. “To liberate control.”

Her head whipped to the right, where she heard his voice several paces away. Turning, she walked in that direction. Instinctively, her hands shot out to avoid crashing into anything. Though she couldn’t see anything, she could hear the leaves rustling in the breeze, her footsteps padding on the soil.

Her hands touched something, so she stopped. Realizing it was Troy’s chest, she dropped her hands.

He grabbed her wrists, bringing them back up to touch him. “What do you feel?” he whispered.

A hard, beautifully, muscled chest. “Your shirt.”

“And?”

Turned on? “I don’t know. Cotton?”

She swore she could hear him smiling. “Stay here. I’ll move again.”

She sighed. “Troy…”

“Over here,” he said from her left. “Put your hands down this time. I’ll direct you.”

“If I fall on my face…”

“You won’t.”

Why in the heck had she agreed to this? She dropped her hands to her sides and walked ten steps. He sounded closer than before. For all she knew, he had left her.

“Stop,” he directed. “There’s a tree root. Step over it.”

Pointing her toe, she dragged her foot along the ground until she felt the root jutting out. Stepping over it, she kept going. Going, going. An owl hooted from a tree above her. She should’ve reached him by now.

“Troy…”

She smacked solidly into his chest.

“What do you feel?”

“A bloody nose coming on? Jeez, you let me walk right into you, Troy.”

His hands fell on her shoulders, so warm. So large. Oh, she bet he could do such great things with those hands.