The Millionaire's Unexpected Proposal (Entangled Indulgence) (5 page)

“He seemed surprised that we’re going to be staying with you.”

“I’m not known for letting people get close to me.”

“Well, then, I can’t wait to see the reaction when you announce we’re getting married.”

Chapter Four

“Oh. My. God. This place rocks!” Olivia opened the French doors and stepped out onto the wide balcony overlooking the pool and, beyond that, the open water.

“Glad you approve,” Sam said

She spun around, unfazed by his cool tone. “You live here all by yourself?”

“Until now.”

“Right. I bet you’ve had some awesome parties.”

He felt the corner of his mouth quirk. “A few.” He was having a hard time resenting the girl, in spite of her sister’s coldhearted actions. Ironically, the guileless delight that radiated from Olivia reminded him of the person he’d
thought
Camilla was—and although it made him feel even more annoyed at the way he’d been completely taken in by Camilla, it also made it hard not to warm up to Olivia.

Camilla walked in with JD and watched them for a moment. JD stood behind Camilla shyly with his face pressed against her leg, peering out at Sam.

When Camilla’s eyes met Sam’s he felt a quick burst of attraction. She wore a simple sundress and sandals, the light from the open doorway shining on her hair accentuating the look of sweetness and innocence. He could almost believe she was exactly what she appeared to be. Then his gaze shifted to JD and he was struck again at how much it was like looking at an image of himself at that age. His first impulse was to stride over and pick the little boy up in his arms. Sam wanted to give JD all the security and love that Sam had never felt from his own father at that age. Or ever. Just a few steps across the room and he could grab JD away from Camilla and let him know that from now on everything was going to be okay. But he couldn’t do that. His own son didn’t even know who he was.

Sam realized suddenly that he had no idea what to say to a child that age.

“Olivia,” he said. “Why don’t you take JD upstairs, show him his room. It’s the third door on the right.”

“I want to sleep with Mommy!”

That wasn’t going to work. JD needed to feel comfortable in his room right from the start. This was where he would be growing up. And it wasn’t right for him to be so dependent on Camilla that he couldn’t sleep in his own bed at night. Sam remembered how he’d clung to his own mother after his father abandoned them. And his mother had encouraged him at first. But that just made it harder when she started dating again and completely lost interest in him. So much so that after she remarried she didn’t hesitate to ship him off to boarding school so she could move on without the inconvenience of raising a child.

Once Camilla got what she wanted—a marriage that protected JD’s trust account from interference by the Winthrops—Sam had no doubt she’d lose interest in JD and be all too ready to hand him off to a nanny or a boarding school. And Sam was not about to let his own son be set up for the same heartbreak and feelings of betrayal he himself had experienced.

No, this house was where JD was going to stay, regardless of where Camilla ended up. So it made sense to set some ground rules from the beginning.

“A child should have his own room,” Sam said, looking at Camilla. “And his own bed.”

JD started to cry. He reached up, pulling on Camilla’s sleeve. “I don’t wanna stay here. I wanna go home.”

She crouched down, hugged him. “How about if Mommy sleeps with you in your room tonight. Okay?”

JD nodded, sniffling, and she gave him a hug. In Sam’s opinion, it wasn’t a good plan, but he bit back any comment. He was not going to start his relationship with his son by arguing in front of him.

“Go on up with Livvy now, okay, honey?” Camilla gave JD another squeeze and then watched him go up the stairs with Olivia. She turned back to Sam.

“He’s a little boy. And he just lost his…” She paused and bit her lip. “He’s been having bad dreams.”

“Fine,” Sam said, striding across the room until he was close to her. “As long as you understand you won’t be sleeping in his room after the wedding.”

“I’m sure you have plenty of rooms to spare,” she said, turning away from him.

Sam grabbed her arm, spun her back, and yanked her against him. If she was trying on purpose to get under his skin, she was doing a good job of it.

“I’m not looking forward to marrying you, Camilla. But I expect our arrangement to have at least a few benefits.”

“The marriage is just a formality, Sam.” She glanced toward the stairs and spoke in a low hiss. “If you think you’re going to force me to sleep with you, then—”

In a second his mouth captured hers, pressing that deceptively delicate body against his. He tightened his hold on her upper arms, lifting her up onto her toes, deepening the kiss until her lips trembled under his. He felt her yield, felt her nipples harden against his chest through her thin summer dress, while her resistance melted away and was replaced by the fiery response he remembered from Las Vegas.

He stepped back the moment he felt her surrender, while she struggled to recover her breath. He’d wanted to make a point, but he’d felt dangerously close to losing himself in the moment. He kept his voice even and without emotion.

“You can tell yourself you don’t want sex to be part of our marriage, Camilla, but your body doesn’t lie.” He paused. “You’re the one who showed up at my office and demanded that I marry you. And if you think I’m going to cheat on my wife or live like a monk for a year, then you don’t know me at all.”

He moved past her to the door, picking up his briefcase. “I’ll be at the office late.” He turned. “The BMW’s in the garage and the keys are on the table.”

Sam walked back in the door at 1:00 a.m., tired and in a bad mood, and smelled…chocolate chip cookies? He tossed his jacket on a chair in the living room, loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves, then wandered out to the kitchen. Camilla was lifting a batch of cookies off a baking sheet onto a set of racks on the marble island.

She was wearing a short camisole that left an enticing line of skin exposed above a pair of cotton drawstring shorts with a strawberry pattern printed all over them. Her feet were bare and her toes were painted the color of the strawberries. Her hair was pulled back in a haphazard clip, with wisps of it escaping to frame her face.

His mouth started to water, and he wasn’t sure which was more appealing at the moment—the plump chocolate chip cookies or the woman who was baking them.

“It’s one a.m.,” he said.

“I couldn’t sleep. I told JD we’d bake cookies earlier, but we didn’t get around to it.” She laughed nervously. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep, I like to bake.”

“Apparently.”

“Do you know you didn’t have any baking sheets or mixing bowls?”

“Why would I have baking sheets and mixing bowls?”

“Well, you have some now. Among other things. I got a little carried away at Williams-Sonoma. With your credit card.”

“I told you to get whatever you needed. The sooner JD and Olivia feel at home here, the better.”

“Want to try one?” She picked up a cookie herself and nibbled at the edge, then licked the crumbs from her lips. “Be careful, though. They’re cool enough on the edges, but the center could still be hot enough to burn you.”

God. It felt like a punch in the gut as the thought crossed his mind that the description suited the woman far better than the cookies. Cool on the outside, he knew from experience that underneath it all Camilla was one hot little number. A few touches from him would be all it took to ignite that fire.

He had a picture in his mind suddenly of pushing the camisole up so he could get his mouth on those perky breasts. Then loosening that drawstring and watching the strawberry shorts slip down her long, bare legs. He felt himself go hard as he wondered if she wore anything under her pajama shorts. Well, he was about to find out.

“It’s not cookies I’ve got an appetite for at the moment,” he said roughly, moving toward her.

“Sam, what are you doing?” She backed up a few steps, sudden awareness in her eyes, and dropped the cookie she’d been eating. Her face was flushed and her nipples were outlined more clearly now against the thin, stretchy fabric, and he knew she was as aroused as he was.

He put his hands on her waist and felt her jerk in response as he slid them upward, pushing the camisole with them. She ran her hands through his hair and arched toward him.

“Sam, I want you.” Her low moan fueled his arousal, and he freed one hand to tug roughly at the drawstring that kept her shorts on her hips.

He wanted to spin her around, brace her against the cool marble island, and take her from behind, filling his hands with those pert little breasts and feeling her lovely backside trembling against him when she came.

“Mommy?” The small voice seemed to be coming from somewhere downstairs, and they jerked apart, Camilla yanking her camisole back down as Sam stepped behind the counter to hide the obvious bulge in his pants.

“I’m in the kitchen, sweetie,” Camilla answered, getting her voice and her breathing back under control.

JD walked in, his little bare feet padding across the stone floor, wearing superhero pajamas, dragging a worn teddy bear in one hand and rubbing his eyes with the other. Sam felt something tighten in his chest.

“I can’t sleep, Mommy. I woke up and you were gone and I didn’t know where you were.” His little mouth formed a pout and he looked like he was about to cry until his nose apparently registered the fragrant smell of chocolate chip cookies. His face lit up and he looked more awake.

“Mommy, you made me cookies. Can I have some? Please.” He sneaked a look over at Sam and smiled shyly, and Sam found himself smiling back.

“Well,” Camilla said, “I think a couple chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk might be just what you need to get back to sleep.”

She got a plastic plate Sam didn’t recognize—he was absolutely sure he didn’t own
any
dishes with bunnies painted on them—placed two cookies on it, poured some milk into a plastic cup, and snapped on a sippy lid.

“Fred wants a cookie, too,” JD said, watching her as he hugged his bear. Camilla smiled and put another cookie on the plate.

“Come on, sweetie,” she said reaching for his hand while she balanced the plate and the cup in the other hand. “Say good night to Sam.”

JD looked sideways at Sam and dutifully said, “Night, Sam” in his little boy voice and Sam felt his heart melting.

“Night, JD,” he said, then looked up at the woman holding the little boy’s hand. “Have a good sleep, Camilla.” He knew she wouldn’t be slipping back into his bed later in the night, as pleasant a thought as that was.

As Camilla headed out of the kitchen and toward the stairs, she glanced back and gave him a look of what he thought was regret. There was no denying she’d wanted him every bit as much as he’d wanted her. For the first time he wondered if rekindling a physical relationship with a woman who had already demonstrated she couldn’t be trusted would be a mistake. What he did know was that right now was probably a good time for a long, cold shower.

Chapter Five

When Sam walked in the charity gala with Camilla on his arm, he was sure every eye in the place was on them. In some ways, despite its teeming population and lucrative tourist trade, Miami was a small town. At least among the sort of people who attended these events and had the money to pay the hefty cost for a table, and inflated prices for the auction items. No doubt people were wondering who the stunning blonde was and where she had come from. If the marriage and adoption were going to proceed smoothly, it was important to give the appearance that his relationship with Camilla was real. This was the perfect opportunity to introduce Camilla to the Miami social circles he and has partners moved in. Sam wasn’t overly fond of these events. It was Jonathon who always insisted they not only buy a table but actually attend. At any rate, it was all for a good cause, even though at the moment he couldn’t remember exactly which good cause they were championing tonight.

The hostess, one of Miami’s nouveau riche and a trophy wife who’d managed to hold on to her husband of more than twenty years, air-kissed Sam on both cheeks and studied Camilla with unabashed appraisal as they were introduced. If she wondered what their relationship was, she was too polite to ask outright. Sam steered the conversation toward the worthy charity she was championing, and she was well able to discuss that at length. Finally, she seized an opportunity to ask Camilla if she was planning to stay in Miami.

“She will if I have anything to do with it,” Sam said, and gave Camilla a smoldering look that he hoped would start rumors circulating about a hot romance.

“Did you need to be so obvious?” Camilla hissed as they walked away.

Sam leaned his head in close to hers. “I have a reputation as a confirmed bachelor, darling. My sudden announcement of our engagement will be much easier to believe if certain people have already been speculating that I’m about to take the fall.”

She frowned. “I don’t know if that makes any sense, but—”

“If a few of these woman start speculating that an engagement is in the offing, once I announce it they’ll be too busy congratulating themselves on being right to wonder what it was about you that made me give up the single life so quickly.”

She still didn’t look convinced, and he tightened his grip on her arm.

“Let me remind you, Camilla, that part of our deal is that we play the loving couple in public. Let’s see if you can’t manage to give at least a few people the impression that we can hardly keep our hands off each other. After all, if I can manage to pretend to be in love with a woman like you, it shouldn’t be that difficult for you to play the part. In fact,” he added, with just a touch of meanness, “I’d imagine it comes rather naturally.”

Her eyes narrowed at that, but she leaned closer and whispered sweetly, “Since you’re a lawyer, and a tort one at that, I imagine lying and deceiving people comes even more naturally to you.”

And with that parting shot, she headed to the ladies’ room. He had to admit, Camilla had spunk, and it was a quality he admired.

…

To Camilla’s surprise, she heard Sam’s laughter follow her as she stepped away. He may have taken her barb in good spirits, but it didn’t diminish the insult he lobbed at her.

Play along? She’d play along. Sam was about to find out just how devoted and “loving” she could be.

She studied herself in the mirror. The look she’d gone for tonight was classic and sophisticated. The cocktail dress she’d picked up at an exclusive boutique at Bal Harbour was Chanel. When she first tried it on she’d thought it was too sexy. The smooth fabric fit her body like a glove, the deceptively simple strapless design leaving her shoulders bare and the high waist and short hemline showcasing her legs. The clever design actually made her breasts look fuller, with a gentle swell of skin above the fabric. But when she’d hesitated, the salesclerk—who, according to her name tag, preferred the title “apparel consultant”—helped her into the trim, fitted jacket and the ensemble was transformed. It was still sexy, yes, but no longer provocative. With her hair pulled back into a French twist, the long line of her neck gave her a regal posture.

She’d thought Sam would want to present her as conservative and elegant. Instead, he wanted the guests to think they were so passionately in love that they couldn’t wait to be alone?
Be careful what you wish for, Sam
. She took off the jacket and tossed it over the little stool beside her.

She pulled lipstick, mascara, and an eyeliner pencil out of her clutch. She took the pencil and added more contrast to the base of her lash line, then smudged it for a sexy, smoky look. She added more mascara, and her blue eyes were instantly more dramatic. She applied lipstick liberally, using her lip liner to give the appearance of fuller lips. She studied her hair in the mirror, then decided to take down the elaborate twist. Her blond hair fell sleekly into place—she’d been blessed with hair that never needed a straightening iron—and then used the sparkling pin that had held the twist in place to instead sweep back her hair on one side. There. That should do it. The woman who had entered the ladies’ room a few minutes ago looked like she could discuss world affairs over a martini in the evenings and attend garden parties in the afternoon. The woman who stared back at her now looked like she’d rather tumble into bed than discuss politics. The kind of woman who stayed out all night, then slept in late and enjoyed champagne cocktails at brunch.

If that was the impression Sam wanted her to make, she could certainly oblige him. With a toss of her hair she headed back to find Sam. And she made sure she swayed her hips just a little when she walked.

…

“Oh Lord.”

“What?” Sam turned, following Jonathon’s gaze. He felt like all the blood immediately drained out of his brain and headed straight for his groin.

Jonathon turned back to him. “Is that the same dress she was wearing when you came in? Funny, I didn’t notice how she seems to be poured in it.”

“She had a jacket on,” Sam muttered. “Where the hell is her jacket?”

“Why would you want to cover that up with a jacket?” Jonathan mused. He turned back to Sam. “Maybe I’ll look her up after the divorce,” he said in a low voice.

“You keep away from her,” Sam growled, reacting automatically and not stopping to wonder why he would even care.

It was certainly taking her long enough to walk across the ballroom, Sam thought. And did she have to stop and chat with everyone who spoke to her on the way? And most of them men.

He strode across the floor, catching up with her just as she was laughing at something a normally stony-faced senior judge said to her.

“Sam,” she said, turning to him and putting a hand on his shoulder as she moved her body next to him. “I was wondering where you’d gone off to.”

“I’d gone off to our table,” he said, then turned to shake the judge’s hand. “Good to see you, sir.”

“Sam Flanagan,” the elder jurist said. “You certainly have good taste in dinner companions.” He turned to Camilla. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Winthrop.”

“Camilla, please,” she said, practically cooing at the old man.

“Well, only if you call me Stu,” Judge Stevenson said, jovially, and Sam tried to keep his mouth from falling open. The Honorable Herbert T. Stevenson, who’d retired after more than thirty years on the bench, was known for being a stickler for formality and for lacking any discernible sense of humor.

“Well, Stu,” Camilla said, pressing her hand in his, “it was a pleasure speaking with you. I’ll look forward to hearing more stories about your years on the bench next time we meet. Honestly you really should put it all in a book someday. It shows a whole different side of our judicial system.”

Judge Stevenson’s cheeks flushed a bit. “Well, actually Camilla, I’ve been thinking about doing just that.”

“Good for you!” she said. “If you do, make sure Sam and I are on the list for your autographing party.”

“You bet,” the judge said, then gave Sam a sterner look. “Now see here that you don’t leave this young lady wandering around by herself again, Mr. Flanagan. Mind your manners.”

“Um, yes, sir, I’ll be sure to do that,” Sam said, as Judge Stevenson nodded briskly, then
winked
at Camilla before heading back toward the bar.

“What did you put in his drink?” Sam asked, as he steered her toward their table.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, giving him an innocent look.

“That man is never friendly. He eats lawyers for breakfast. We had a party when he retired from the bench.”

“You threw him a party?”

“No, the lawyers had a party. Judge Stevenson wasn’t invited.”

“Well, I thought he was charming,” she said.

“Right. I think you’re the one who’s been charming every man in the room between the ages of nineteen and eighty.”

She looked up at him from under those long lashes—had he noticed before how really long her lashes were? He’d certainly noticed those brilliantly blue eyes before, but at the moment he couldn’t seem to take his own eyes off them.

“Why don’t you try charming me, Camilla?” he said, and she laughed softly.

“Is that what you want, Sam?”

What he wanted wasn’t something he could discuss in public, so he settled for pulling her out onto the dance floor just as the band was settling into a slow and sultry ballad.

The champagne would keep flowing through dinner, Sam knew, in the hopes that wallets would get looser once dessert was served and the bidding started on auction items that nobody needed but many would be unable to resist.

Camilla danced effortlessly and beautifully, and he reminded himself that her mother had been a former dancer turned Vegas showgirl, so apparently she came by it naturally.

She seemed to anticipate his every move, dancing as if they were one body. As the song slowed, she slid both arms up, clasping her hands behind his neck and resting her cheek against him. His hands moved to her waist and he resisted the urge to slide them down just a little lower over the smooth fabric that hugged her bottom.

He’d wanted people to
think
he could barely keep his hands off her. He hadn’t counted on it being true.

When the song ended and they headed back to the table, Jonathon was watching them with unabashed speculation.

“You have a problem?” Sam asked as he sat down beside him, with Camilla on Sam’s other side.

“Not as long as you tell me it’s your brain that’s still doing the thinking.”

“Nothing to worry about,” Sam assured him, but he leaned over to Camilla, his lips close to her ear.

“What do you think you were doing out there?”

Instead of answering, she turned her head toward him. Her lips were a tantalizing fraction of an inch from his own, and it was the most natural thing in the world to brush his mouth across hers. That was all he meant it to be—a quick brush of lips.

She responded by putting her hand behind his neck and pulling him closer so that he appeared, to anyone watching, to be pushing against her instead of the other way around. He could taste champagne on those slick red lips as they parted in invitation, beguiling him, pulling him into a kiss that was hot and demanding. They only moved apart when an amused voice from across the table asked if maybe they would like to get a room.

Then the little witch actually blushed prettily, and cooed, “Oh, Sam, you’re embarrassing me.”

She looked over at the banker who shared their table as Jonathon’s guest and said she was so sorry to carry on like that, and she’d try to behave.

Which of course had the man falling all over himself assuring her he’d only been kidding, and yet another man fell under her spell. His wife was apparently equally charmed, as she told Camilla how “refreshing” it was to see a young couple so obviously in love.

You’d think she’d have stopped there, Sam reflected as the evening progressed, but no. Instead she took every opportunity to whisper in his ear, gaze adoringly at him with those amazing eyes, and still manage to give the impression all the time that he was the one pursuing her. By the time dessert was served, her chair had ended up a good six inches closer to him, and a long, silky leg had somehow gotten intertwined with his. If she got any closer she’d be sitting in his lap.

When he’d told her to play the devoted couple he’d never expected her to take it so literally. And he was sure now that she was completely enjoying his discomfort while she put on her little public display of seduction. After the way she’d tormented him all evening, he wasn’t sure which was more tempting—taking her to bed, or putting her across his knee.

She apparently thought she had him just where she wanted him. At least her antics had given him the perfect excuse to make an early exit and haul her out of there, since by now virtually everyone in the place thought that he was completely under her spell. She waved good-byes with a smug little smile as he pulled her toward the door, stopping by the ladies’ room just long enough to retrieve the jacket she’d discarded earlier.

He’d see if she was as flirty and sure of herself once he got her in the backseat of the limo.

…

After a few glasses of champagne, Camilla was pleasantly relaxed. Flirting openly with Sam had been so much fun, especially since he’d been the one controlling everything since the moment she’d shown up at his office. It was about time the tables were turned a little. And it had been no hardship falling into the pretense that they were in love. Sam was utterly charming when he wanted to be, and the way he filled out a tuxedo would make any woman’s heart beat a little faster. Somewhere during the evening she’d crossed the line from pretending to be attracted to him to really feeling the chemistry igniting between then. Apparently her body hadn’t gotten the memo that none of this was real.