Yours to Keep (37 page)

Over the past year, all his brothers had found happiness with good women, and he was glad for it. Of course he was. But he hadn’t found a special woman of his own, and so he’d filled that void with work, work, and more work.

Val held open the lobby door as they stepped out into the early summer evening. Though they were many blocks from the water, he still caught a waft of the harbor, salty and musky.

“Really glad you’re coming tonight,” Theo said, as they began to walk down Cambridge Street. “Lately I’ve been wondering if you do anything but work. It’s good for you to get out.”

Val made a noncommittal noise in his throat.

Theo paused for a second, then laughed. “This
is
work, isn’t it?”

“Of course not,” Val said smoothly. “I’m coming to support my brother. A Grayson is about to receive a Kirkland Award. You bet your ass I’m going to be there.” No way could he tell Theo about his latest case—or the man he was shadowing.

“Uh-huh,” Theo said, sounding unconvinced. “All the same, I’m glad you’re joining me. Seb is back in New York again and Cole couldn’t take the time off.” Sebastian, Theo’s twin, was a famous chef who owned a popular restaurant in Manhattan. He’d met his match in Lexie Meyers, a firecracker of a cook who was his equal, both in and out of the kitchen. And Cole, Star Harbor’s sheriff and a war veteran, had found peace with Julie Kensington, a beautiful doctor with a backbone of steel.

“I thought Seb was coming back to Star Harbor this summer.”

“He is,” Theo said. “In a week or two. He told me he had to get his schedule squared away before he opens up his new summer place in town.”

“Damn, he’s really pushing this, time-wise.”

“He’s not as organized as you are,” Theo said with a smile. “But you know Seb. He thrives under pressure. He’ll pull it together.”

“Hope so,” Val said, just as they reached the parking lot.

After paying the cashier, they hopped into Theo’s Jeep. “Tell me again why we aren’t taking the T?” Val asked.

“Because after the ceremony, I want to get back to my hotel as quickly as possible. Avery and I are taking the next week off from work to explore Boston.”

“Forgot you weren’t driving back to Star Harbor afterward,” Val sighed. “Guess I’m crashing in my apartment.” It probably wasn’t such a bad thing. If he was able to make contact with his target, he’d have plenty to write up at the office the next day.

“Maybe you’ll find a good reason to stick around the city,” Theo said, starting the vehicle.

“Maybe,” Val said as he settled into the seat and strapped on his seat belt.
Doubtful.

A trickle of perspiration dripped down Cameron Stahl’s neck and lodged right between her breasts. Though it wasn’t that hot outside—or even inside, for that matter—she was sweltering. “I have to get out of here,” Cameron whispered to her mother, who was seated next to her in the ballroom of Boston’s Commonwealth Club.

“Must you leave
now
, Cameron?” Clarissa whispered back through clenched lips, the inclination of her silvery head the only physical indication that she might be speaking.

“Yes,” Cameron answered, tilting her head away. She was embarrassed to show her mother the pleading look on her face, a look Clarissa Endicott Stahl would only see as weak. But if she had to spend another second in this airless room with her filmy evening gown sticking to her damp skin while they listened to the club’s president drone on and on about the benefits of the arts and the importance of the Kirkland Awards, she was going to scream.

Granted, she had promised her mother that she would attend a certain number of social engagements each season, but this one was turning out to be intolerable. There had to be close to four hundred people in attendance, all members of Boston’s elite and all dressed to the nines.

How many hours could the speeches go on? And the awards hadn’t even been presented yet. Then there’d be dancing. Another slow trickle of perspiration slid from the nape of her neck and began to wend its torturous way down her back. It was agony. Her younger sister, Cecile, sat
on Clarissa’s other side, utterly still, her face a marble mask. How Cecile managed not to move a muscle, Cameron had no idea. Everything inside her was screaming to get free.

“Well, go then,” her mother said softly with a flicker of her sparkling eyes and a wave of her elegant hand. “But make sure you’re back for the awards.”

Cameron gave a grateful sigh and quietly slid out of her uncomfortable wooden chair. Within moments, she’d slipped through the double doors of the ballroom. As soon as she left the room, her chest lightened, free from some invisible weight. Taking a deep breath, she began to walk down the long hallway. What would have happened if she’d lost her composure in front of all those people? She’d never have heard the end of it from her mother.

When had going to a stupid charity engagement been so difficult for her? It used to be so easy. Show up in a lovely gown, have a glass of champagne, make the rounds, and then head home, mission accomplished. But over the past few months—since she’d opened her second boutique—all she wanted to do was to ditch the charity circuit and focus on her work. If her mother knew, she’d be horrified. According to Clarissa, a prominent philanthropist, one did not
work,
one simply gave of one’s time. One boutique could be considered a hobby, but two? That was a business, and Clarissa made no bones about the fact that she’d be delighted—no, thrilled—if Cameron gave it up and followed in her footsteps to become a society wife.

But Cameron wasn’t her mother. Not yet, anyway. Not ever, if she had anything to say about it.

The club was dark, the event having gone on long past its expected ending point. All nonessential staff had left for the evening, leaving the mansion eerily quiet. Cameron’s perspiration began to dry in the cooler air, and now her skin was unpleasantly clammy. She could do this. All she needed was a few minutes alone. A few minutes to give her the strength to finish out the evening.

The doors lining the hallway were locked. Even the expressions on the portraits on the walls looked grim, as if they’d been cooped up for far too long.

She felt the exact same way.

At the end of the corridor, Cameron saw a dim glow of light from beneath a large wooden door. Hoping that light meant the room was available for use, she hastily made her way toward the door. It was unlocked. Nearly losing her balance in her strappy, high-heeled sandals, she managed to pry the heavy door open enough to give her room to slip inside.

Unseasonably, someone had built a fire, which was slowly dying in the huge, stone hearth. Close to the fire it was light, but darkness engulfed the edges of the room.

The fire’s embers glowed invitingly and Cameron couldn’t resist. She walked right up to the hearth and put an arm on the mantel, leaning on it for support. It was a strain, keeping up this act, trying so hard not to disappoint her family, while the whole time she was just disappointing herself. But no one was watching now. She slumped a little, letting her head drop down. She was tired, so very tired. Tired of not doing what she wanted, when she wanted. Tired of dancing to her mother’s tune. Most of the time, her mother didn’t seem to be happy, and Cameron certainly wasn’t making
herself
happy.

“What am I doing?” she said, her voice quickly swallowed up by the cavernous room.

Then, she heard a man’s voice say, “Gotta go,” and in a flash, she realized she wasn’t alone. Quickly adjusting her posture and standing up straight, she searched out the source of the sound. Her eyes lit on a darkened corner of the room and she saw him—big, broad-shouldered, lounging in a giant wingback chair. Though she couldn’t see his face, Cameron had the distinct impression that the man wanted his privacy even more than she did. Instinctively, she drew back.

And then he stood up.

For the briefest instant, her heart stopped before kick-starting back into gear.

She knew who he was—Val Grayson, the soft-spoken eldest brother in the Grayson clan.

Even from twenty feet away, he looked powerful. His hair was black—as dark as her own raven tresses, tinged with a bit of gray at his temples. Prominent cheekbones were set off by the glowing firelight, the shadows dipping into the hollows of his cheeks. His jawline was strong and his skin was lightly tanned. No hint of a smile lay on his well-formed lips.

From so far away she couldn’t gauge the color of his eyes, but she remembered they were some unusual shade of blue. Silently, she watched as he tucked his cell phone into an inside pocket of his suit jacket and moved toward her, eyes never leaving hers, his gaze searing.

Dangerous.

He looked dangerous. And haunted.

Tonight, Val’s strong, lanky frame was covered in a fine-fitting suit. She’d seen him a few times in Star Harbor, working on his boat on the piers not far from her boutique and hanging out with his brothers. Once on the beach, she’d even seen him shirtless. He’d been wiry, with the build of a twenty-year-old, though he had to be in his mid-thirties. Somehow, covered in fine,
woven cloth, he looked even sexier than he had when she’d seen his bare chest, his refined clothes juxtaposed with his rugged looks a fascinating study in contrasts.

Why hadn’t she noticed him—really noticed him—before now? The answer hit her hard. Was she really so snobbish that the sight of a man in an Italian suit would turn her on? What was wrong with her?

“I didn’t realize this room was occupied,” she said. “And I’m sorry I interrupted your phone call. I’ll leave now.” She turned to the door.

“Don’t go,” Val said, his deep voice rumbling through her. “It looks like you needed to get out of there as much as I did.” She turned back toward him—toward the heat. The temperature in the room rose when he graced her with a slight smile. “You all right?”

“Yes. Perfectly all right. I should really get back to the awards ceremony now.” Now that he was near her, she realized just how big he was. There were lines etched on his face, light brackets at the corners of his lips and little crinkles at the edges of his eyes, which gave his handsome face an air of worldliness.

“Hmm.” He was eyeing her speculatively now. “I think you should take another couple of minutes here.”

She paused, looking at him, and raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

“Yeah. I do. Why don’t you sit down?”

“I’m fine standing.”

“Would you like a drink? I think there’s some water on the sideboard.”

“No, thank you.”

“Just relax, then.” He was quiet for a moment. “I’ll be honest, the Kirkland Award ceremony isn’t quite what I expected.”

“In that it’s exactly like a lecture?” Cameron said before she could stop herself. Then she winced. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You only said what I thought. Were they giving out the awards yet when you left?”

Cameron shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. And I’m afraid it’ll be some time before they do.”

There was silence for a while before he spoke again.

“You own that high-end shop in Star Harbor, right?”

“Yes. The Front Street Boutique,” she said.

“Are you an artist, too?” he asked. When he spoke, the lines around his mouth deepened. It was one of the sexiest things she’d ever seen. For just a moment, she had an overwhelming desire to run the tips of her fingers—then the tip of her tongue—around those little brackets.

Cameron blinked, realizing he’d asked her a question. “An artist?” She laughed gently. “Far from it, though I do appreciate art. You?”

“Hardly.”

“I guess the only reason you’re here this evening is because Theo’s receiving a Kirkland Award, then.”

He dipped his head in acknowledgment.

“Then why are you in here taking phone calls?”

“That,” he said, “is an excellent question.” She looked up into his eyes—greenish-blue, like the ocean in midsummer. His gaze had an intensity that took her breath away.

“One that you’d prefer not to answer, I take it?” She could barely get the words out, her throat was so tight.

“You’re sharp,” he said, his look appraising. “I always thought that about you.”

“Really?” Cameron said, unable to hide her surprise. “We’ve only met a handful of times. How could you have figured that out?”

“Oh, I can tell. Usually within five minutes of meeting a person,” he said, another one of those half-smiles on his face. He took a step closer. “But I didn’t know you had—” He stopped.

Cameron’s body went on high alert as she grew flushed, feeling heat stream from her cheeks down through her entire body. Whether it was from the fire or from his nearness, she couldn’t tell. All she knew was that she’d never felt anything like it before. And it was disconcerting. “Had
what
?”

There was another long pause. “Obligations.”

The man was insightful. Yes, she had obligations. Enough to make her sometimes feel like she was going crazy.

The stale, cold smell of the blackened hearth began to permeate the room. “The fire’s almost gone,” he said.

Cameron cleared her throat. “I should get back before I’m missed.”

“I’ll join you.”

“That won’t be necessary. I can find my way back by myself.” People might talk if they
were seen together—the very last thing she wanted.

“I insist,” he said.

Cameron didn’t see a graceful way out of the situation, so she merely inclined her head in acquiescence, an echo of her mother’s gesture.

“Shall we?” he asked, holding out his left arm.

With only the slightest hesitation, she reached out to wrap her hand into the crook of his elbow. As she touched him, a sizzling jolt of energy coursed through her. She nearly drew back in surprise, but he simply covered her hand with his right one. When she looked up at him, his lips curled and the crinkles at the edges of his eyes deepened, as if he knew exactly the effect he had on her.

Guiding her to the heavy door, Val opened it one-handed in an easy gesture. The same door that she’d struggled to open a few inches. She stole a glance at him as he escorted her down the long corridor. He was looking straight ahead, but he saw her out of the corner of his eye and turned toward her. And smiled, this time full-on.