Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Ryan spent a good ten minutes making sure he left the bathroom in as spotless a state as when he’d first found it. If this was an Airbnb his guest rating would be perfect.
He’d put his shirt from yesterday back on. And since he had slept in it, there were more than a few creases. His pants were little better. Ryan brushed his hands down the front of his button down, but it did nothing.
When he stepped out of the bathroom, Camille was waiting for him.
“I don’t suppose you have an iron I could borrow,” he said.
“I have something better, here.” She handed him an olive green t-shirt. It looked like it had barely, if ever, been worn. As Ryan took it from Camille’s hands, he couldn’t help but wince. Was this a left over from an old boyfriend?
As if reading his mind, Camille huffed. “Relax, it belongs to my brother éliott. He stays here sometimes when he’s in New York. It’s brand new so he won’t mind you wearing it.”
If he had a sister who handed over his new t-shirts to a stranger he’d be seriously pissed. “Are you sure? I mean my clothes are a little crumpled but they’re not dirty.”
Camille waved his concerns away. “éliott never wears the same shirt twice. He orders his wardrobe in bulk and keeps his attire scattered in various places throughout the world. Believe me when I say you could be dressed from head to toe in his clothes, and standing right in front of him and éliott wouldn’t notice.”
She went to move away, then stopped. “And no there is nothing wrong with your button down Ryan, it’s just that we are going to pay a visit to the fashion show site today, and I don’t want anyone thinking I hired a guy who I found sleeping rough.”
He caught the implication that the fashionistas of NYC might be tempted to judge a rumpled man, and by default extend that same thought to Camille. They’d only been working together a matter of days, but he’d already got a solid grasp on how much this upcoming fashion show meant to his boss. He would not let Camille down.
When her gaze drifted to his pants, Ryan could have sworn she licked her lips. “My brother is thin, so his pants won’t go anywhere near on you. But if you give me yours, I can run the steamer over them.”
Ryan blinked. Camille let out a giggle. “You’ll have to take them off. But I’m a professional designer, I’ve seen plenty of male models over the years. Just slip out of them, then go change shirts.”
He hesitated for a moment and Camille rolled her eyes. “Mister Prude. I’ll turn around while you remove your pants. How’s that?”
“Give me a minute, I’ll take them off in the bathroom, then hand them to you through the door.”
Mister Prude, not a chance. But she’s not seeing me without pants.
The last thing he needed at this hour of the morning was for Camille to see the semi-erect state of his manhood. He could blame it on morning wood, but Ryan knew better. Standing this close to Camille did things to him that he didn’t want to have to explain to his boss.
When a fully dressed Ryan finally resurfaced from out of the bathroom a short time later, Camille gave him a nod of approval. “I like the t-shirt on you. Gives you a bit more of an edgy look.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think a guy from East Orange, New Jersey would ever be considered edgy. This is a fab t-shirt. The cotton is so soft against my skin.”
“The brand is Corneliani, and it’s made in Portugal. And no you don’t want to ask how much their plain t-shirts retail for in New York.”
She itched to run her fingers over the fabric, to trace a line that would take in the muscles of his arm. As far as she was concerned Ryan had the perfect physique. He probably didn’t go to the gym, but he was strong and healthy in a natural guy way. He might have missed the train last night, but she was sure he’d been at a full run when he hit the platform.
The intercom buzzed, and she hurried to answer it. One of the regular delivery team from Royal Resorts Manhattan waved at her through the camera, and she announced, “Our breakfast is here.”
She turned toward the door, but Ryan slipped past her. “I’m the assistant here, so I should be going down to pick up the food.”
“Oh alright. While you do that, I’ll set out some plates and cutlery,” she replied.
“Don’t forget the good linen napkins,” called Ryan. Camille caught the cheeky grin on his face.
He was such a breath of fresh air. She’d never quite understood the whole All-American male thing up until now, but the longer she spent with Ryan Collins the more she suspected he might well be what that term actually meant.
There was a certain casual easiness about him that she had always found lacking in French men. She could imagine a guy like Ryan actually laughing at himself as he grew more comfortable and confident in his role with her, something a staid Parisian male would never think to do.
In the kitchen, she set the counter ready for them to eat. Camille smirked as she pulled out the crisp white linen table napkins from the drawer. Ryan might think he was being cheeky reminding her to use them, but they were her special indulgence. She much preferred them to the thin paper ones which often came with food deliveries.
Ryan reappeared a couple of minutes later. “Whatever you ordered for breakfast smells amazing.”
“I got us Okonomiyaki. Japanese pancakes. I hope you like seafood, because the chef always includes it when he makes the mix.”
“I love seafood. Then again, I don’t think there is much I don’t eat.”
She bit back a laugh, and he narrowed his eyes at her.
“What?”
Camille shook her head. “Nothing.”
Ryan stalked closer, and her heart began to race as he leaned in and asked, “That laugh was not a nothing laugh. Spill the tea, Ms. Royal.”
“I just remember when you were on the show, and they got all of you guys to eat a mystery dish.”
She could have sworn his face paled. Ryan shuddered. “Oh yuck. They made us eat fermented shark. I swear some nights I wake up thinking I can still smell it.”
The contestants had been forced to eat Hákarl, the infamous rotten shark dish which originated from Iceland. No one on Bachelors on the Beach had managed to finish their first mouthful, and the prize of a week’s luxury cruise in the Bahamas had gone begging.
“They had to do some clever editing of that episode. I think we all threw up.”
He set the breakfast pack on the bench, and as he took out the various containers, Ryan slowly shook his head. “You really did watch the entire series, didn’t you? I’m never going to live it down.”
Camille caught the uneasiness in his words. The worry that she would eventually drag up every excruciating moment of Bachelors on the Beach . And that he would have to suffer her never ending questions about it.
She touched a hand to his arm. “Sorry. I did promise not to bring the program up, and now I have.”
The sly smile he gave her in response went straight to Camille’s sex. She was a sucker for flirting with him, but that smile. Oh boy.
To her somewhat relief Ryan didn’t allow the situation to escalate, he simply unpacked the food, and arranged it on the kitchen countertop. Removing the lids from the containers he remarked, “I might have to miss a few more trains if this is the sort of food you get for breakfast.”
Camille took up her place on the stool next to the one where Ryan had sat. Their bodies were mere inches apart.
This is all very close and cozy.
His words had sparked an idea in her mind. A dangerous one, but one she couldn’t resist. “There is a chance that we will be working long hours over the next couple of months. Perhaps you staying here during the week isn’t such a bad idea.” Camille swallowed deep and added, “But of course if your girlfriend isn’t comfortable with that arrangement I’ll just make sure you have access to an Uber account and you can go home each night.”
Please don’t let him have a girlfriend.
Then again if Ryan did have a partner, it might help kill off the hot crush she had going for him. Might kill it stone dead.
He had an obvious but easy charm about him, something few women would be able to resist. Of course he would have a girlfriend.
Ryan piled a large Japanese pancake onto a plate and handed it to Camille. “What makes you think I have a girlfriend?”
From the way he spoke it sounded like he’d guessed she was fishing. Which in truth she was, she had to know one way or the other if he was off limits. If there was a girlfriend on the scene, then this sort of teasing would end here and now. Camille would never knowingly break another woman’s heart.
“I just assumed you would have a girlfriend. Or maybe a boyfriend. You just don’t strike me as the sort of man to be single.”
Oh my god, Camille will you please shut up.
They were treading on dangerous ground. Ryan would be well within his rights to call Camille out on her deeply personal questions. On the way she was behaving. Too many lines were being crossed, too fast.
“No. I don’t have a girlfriend. And the only male living in my apartment is my brother, who is currently on assignment for a sports magazine in Tahiti.”
Focusing her attention on her pancake, she cutting into it with all the attention of a skilled tailor. Stuffing a chunk of it into her mouth, Camille chewed slowly, hoping that Ryan would be the one to decide where this conversation went.
She prayed it didn’t end up with him asking for the details of her Uber account.