Chapter Four #2
As he stared down at it, more and more confusion poured into Cameron’s veins.
It didn’t look like the kind of suit a man would buy his whore.
He took it out of the bag very carefully and laid it out neatly on the bed.
A pair of leather shoes were soon unearthed from the shopping bag.
A shirt followed, then a tie, then socks.
There was even a pair of boxer briefs in there.
Franklin certainly seemed to have thought of everything…
Cameron stood up. He took several steps away from both the bed and the clothing laid out there.
Standing in the middle of the room, he stilled. His attention went to the en-suite door, then back to the clothes. He took a deep breath.
The chances of a man like Franklin seeing him as anything other than a whore were miniscule. But if there was any chance…
The same instinct that had drawn Cameron to Franklin from the very first time he sensed his presence in the crowded club screamed inside him again, demanding that, if there was even the remotest possibility, he had to take it.
Cameron took half a step toward the clothes. He closed his eyes for a moment. His stomach knotted around his doubts.
Forcing his eyes open, Cameron squared his shoulders and took several brisk paces forward in quick succession.
A stripper shouldn’t have any trouble getting into or out of any outfit in seconds.
That knowledge did him very little good right then.
All his carefully honed skills deserted him.
He mentally cursed his fingers for refusing to work quickly enough.
He glanced at the door leading into the en-suite once more, sure that it would swing open any moment, that Franklin would stride back into the room and catch him scrambling into the clothes with shaking hands.
By the time he was finally dressed and ready to stare into the mirror on the dressing table, Cameron was out of breath and more uncertain than ever. He had to force himself to stand up straight, tilt his chin back and meet his own gaze without flinching.
Taking a deep breath, he lowered his eyes and ran his attention over the suit.
He…didn’t look like a whore in it. That was something.
Swallowing down the bitter taste in the back of his mouth, Cameron lifted a hand and thrust it through his hair, impatiently pushing the long blond strands back off his face.
For a moment, he hesitated again, but when he’d made his decision, he moved quickly. A few quick strides took him to his backpack. In moments, his hair was cinched neatly back at the nape of his neck.
Cameron looked in the mirror again as he smoothed a few errant strands into place. A little less wild looking, perhaps a little more like the type of man who belonged at a table with Franklin and the kind of men he’d be likely to do business with.
The sound of the shower stopped. Cameron glanced toward the bathroom door. Taking a step back, he sat on the end of the bed to wait.
A few seconds passed. He got to his feet. Striding to the end of the room, he spun around and retraced his steps. He pushed his hands into his pockets. A moment later, he took them out and straightened his jacket. He looked to the en-suite door again. The guy was taking forever in there.
Cameron paced back to the end of the bed, but he couldn’t bring himself to sit down again. At this rate, he was bound to make a fool of himself when Franklin finally appeared.
Cameron frowned then. He didn’t have to wait for the guy.
He wasn’t being paid for his time. There was no reason for him to twiddle his fingers there as if he had no choice but remain where he was.
Cameron strode to the bedroom door and briskly out onto the landing.
A moment later, he was at the bottom of the stairs, standing in the middle of the hallway without a clue as to what his next move should be.
Taking a deep breath, he glanced around to make sure no one had seen him make a fool of himself as he rushed down the stairs.
No one was there. Walking across the tiles, he leaned casually back against the dresser on the far side of the hall and did his best to look as if he were bored as hell and not the least bit nervous.
Within moments, Cameron knew without the slightest doubt that the tick from the hall clock was the most annoying sound on the planet. His hand curled into a fist as he barely managed to resist the temptation to smash it.
“Some humans can be complete bastards.”
Cameron spun around.
Ellery stepped out of the doorway leading into the den.
“I’ve no doubt you’ve got good reason to hate humans, Cameron.
And, if you want to bitch and snap at me like a brat, that’s fine.
I’m a safe target for you, and I really don’t give a damn.
” He stopped for a moment, as if waiting for that to sink in.
“But the cheap shots you’re taking at Kefir—they stop now.
Lashing out at him is completely unacceptable. ”
“I’m not afraid of you.” Cameron let a well-practiced mocking tone fill his voice.
Ellery stepped forward. He didn’t look scared of facing off against a lion either. He stared Cameron down as if he thought he was just a silly little cub, just like Luther or Blaine.
“Mind your manners with Kefir, and we’ll get on fine.” Ellery stepped past him without another word.
“And does he have to mind his manners with you, for him to be fine, too?” Cameron called after him.
“I’m not renting him by the hour, Cameron,” Ellery said, with something that sounded suspiciously like genuine sympathy in his voice. “I’ve taken him under my protection. Until you learn the difference between the two scenarios, you really shouldn’t babble about things you don’t understand.”
And he walked away, slow and sure of every step he took. It felt far more like he was dismissing a kitten than running away from the scary shape shifter.
Cameron had no idea how long he glared at the door Ellery had disappeared through and listened to the tick of that bloody clock. It felt like an eternity. He had the horrible suspicion that any time he spent away from Franklin was going to feel that way now.
“Cameron?”
Spinning around, Cameron glared up the stairs at Franklin. Finally!
Franklin had changed into a different suit from the one he’d worn to work.
Cameron ran his eyes over him, not entirely sure if he wanted to rip the garments off Franklin’s body because it obviously cost more than he could have earned on a dozen trips to the alleyway behind the club, or just for the sheer joy of having him naked.
*
Franklin strode down the stairs as calmly and as assertively as he could. Projecting confidence was one thing. Feeling it something else. His heart raced so fast, he could easily imagine that it would leave him behind and race toward Cameron ahead of him.
“You look great.”
Cameron merely glared at him in return. His anger should have contorted his features into something short of perfection. Somehow, it just made his cheekbones appear even higher, his dark brown eyes even deeper and every single damn thing about him that little bit more glorious than before.
“I’m glad you decided to join me,” Franklin offered, in his best business voice.
Not a single word.
Taking a deep breath and trying to ignore the fact he was already tenting his nicely tailored trousers, Franklin politely opened the door for his date and let Cameron lead the way to the car.
“The men we’re meeting are selling their business. I’m buying it from them,” he said, as he started the car and pulled out of the drive.
Cameron stared out of the car window and made no comment.
“It’s a blue chip company—they make computer software,” he added.
Not a single, bloody syllable.
The appropriate thing to do at that point would be to shut the hell up.
If Cameron was going to sulk and pout like a spoilt child, it was obvious that Franklin should call him to heel rather than pander to him.
But something inside Franklin screamed that all he wanted was for Cameron to be happy, to be pleased with him, and he still couldn’t quite convince his mouth and his lips to obey his orders.
He literally bit his tongue, but even that didn’t do any good.
“The older man’s name is Charles Hansford. The younger man we’ll meet will be Bill Edwards.” Franklin tapped his fingertips on the steering wheel. “Bill and I are old friends. We went to school together.”
Five minutes later, Franklin had never been more grateful to see a restaurant come into view.
He rushed out of the car before the valet had a chance to open the door for him, incredibly glad to be out of the stifling silence within the vehicle.
He was easily in time to see Cameron rise out of the opposite side of the low-slung space with perfect feline grace.
As the most fashionable new restaurant in the best part of the city, there was the inevitable genteel scrum around the doorway as everyone who’d managed to get a reservation there lingered in an effort to either be seen arriving or departing.
Just as he was about to look over his shoulder and check on Cameron’s progress through the melee, sure that he would find the crowds unsettling, Franklin felt Cameron’s hand to come to rest on the small of his back.
A moment later, Cameron stepped closer and seemed to try to subtly shelter Franklin from the worst of the crowd with his slightly taller frame.
Franklin hesitated as he found his usual role snatched away from him. Cameron took a step forward. Their bodies rubbed together.
As Franklin eventually convinced himself to walk on and break physical contact with Cameron, he silently shook his head at himself.
Anyone would swear he was a teenager at his first school dance rather than a grown man.
Worse than that, he had the horrible feeling that he was playing the follower rather than the leader, the submissive rather than the dominant party.