Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Grabbing her suitcase, Camille dropped it onto the bed, then unzipped the top. A pretty dress with miniature apples and oranges printed on the fabric caught her eye. After selecting the dress, along with a pair of tan sandals, she quickly changed.
Making her way down to the first floor a few minutes later, she could hear Ryan and what must have been a delivery man engaged in conversation. They were out of sight in the living room.
What appeared to be two small catering boxes were stacked on the kitchen counter—boxes which hadn’t been there when they’d arrived.
“I’m sorry that the delivery was so late. I can’t drive all the way to your front door, so I had to park a little ways up the street, and carry the boxes.”
If she remained near the front door, there was every chance she’d be forced to make polite conversation with the stranger. Camille’s heart and head were in too much of a mess to handle any form of social interaction.
Ryan had kissed her. She’d kissed Ryan. They had kissed. Camille stood at the bottom of the stairs staring at a beach painting on the wall, waiting for the rush of regret to come and overwhelm her. This was wrong. She was his boss. They had crossed a line. But not an ounce of remorse stirred.
You’ve been moving the line for him ever since that first day he set foot in your studio.
The little voice of her conscience kindly reminded her that everything she’d done with regard to Ryan Collins had been leading to that moment just now in the bedroom. To them breaking the boundaries of employer-employee relations.
She’d taken the first big step when she’d asked him to come and stay at her apartment.
What would a judge say about that if this ever became a sexual harassment case?
She was the one in the position of power in their relationship, and as such she should know better. A fling with an employee could come at the cost of her entire career.
I need some fresh air, and to get my head straight.
If she didn’t, the next step would be picking up the phone, calling the helicopter service, and asking them to send the chopper back. Day one of their stay on the island and she was fast losing all sense of propriety. If that delivery guy hadn’t knocked on the front door, heaven knows what they would be doing right now.
I know exactly what we would be doing.
Why did something that felt so damn right have to be so wrong?
After slipping off her sandals, Camille left them by the front door and headed out. She was sucking in large gulps of air as she crossed the narrow dirt path out front of the house and made her way onto the sandy beach.
Her gaze tracked left and right. A long golden beach ran in both directions. The sun’s rays glittered on the deep blue of the ocean. The view soon had Camille smiling, and her heart rate calming down.
This place reminded her a little of the French Riviera. Though the beach here was far less crowded, and hotels and multistory apartment blocks did not crowd the shore. Nor were there dozens of large tourist coaches parked along the street.
Her brows furrowed, and she muttered, “Scratch that. This is nothing like the French Riviera.”
Saltaire wasn’t swarming with tourists. This part of Fire Island was an unspoiled piece of paradise. A place where she should look to unwind and relax. To let her thoughts run free. It was not the place to go making poor life decisions.
The crunch of footsteps on the golden sand had her turning to see Ryan following in her wake. His hands were in his pockets and his shoulders were slumped. He looked as uncomfortable as she felt. And he hadn’t changed his clothes.
He stopped a few feet away, but wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I’m sorry, Camille. I shouldn’t have done that. It’s not fair to put my attraction to you ahead of the job you’ve hired me to do. You are my boss. I promise it won’t happen again,” he said.
He’s the one feeling guilty. Oh no.
She should be relieved that he wasn’t going to try and kiss her again. Instead a lump of sadness welled up inside Camille. That kiss had been lovely. Gentle. More a moment of worship than just a kiss.
And when he’d deepened it, and gone to claim her, she had been with him every step of the way.
This moment was make or break time for them. Whatever was growing between them had to be dealt with, and now. They either agreed to back off and keep things professional or they went all in.
She watched as Ryan nervously dug his bare feet into the sand. Her heart pleaded for her to go to him.
I want him. I don’t know how I can move past this if he wants to let it go.
Could they somehow manage to work together and be something more? She’d spent so much of her private time in America being on her own. Had never dated. Never even kissed a guy. And now she had this thing with Ryan.
Four years ago he’d captured her attention. She’d been absolutely crushed when he’d had his heart broken on that stupid show. The pain she had felt for Ryan had been real.
That night watching him standing on the beach, all Camille had wanted to do was somehow magically dive into the tv, appear at Ryan’s side and offer him her comfort. To let him know that there was someone out there for him, someone who would value his warmth and open nature.
She now understood the truth. Like a princess in a fairytale, she’d been waiting all this time for him.
Camille took a step forward. And then another. When she stood right in front of Ryan, she looked up at him and asked, “Are you sorry, or are you just saying that because you think it’s what I want to hear?”
“I’m sorry if it could jeopardize our working relationship. Am I sorry that I kissed you? No. I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day we met. When you were lying on top of me in the middle of the street all I could think of was kissing you.” A laugh escaped his lips, and he started to back away. “I should go, let you have some space.”
This was dangerous ground, but she couldn’t let him go. She hurried after him and took a hold of his arm. “Don’t go. Please. Ryan, I don’t want you to be sorry about anything we did, because I’m not.”
There I said it. And if they burn me for wanting him, I still won’t regret any of it.
He stopped. Her breathing growing more ragged as his gaze traced over her face. “I need this job, Camille, but I want you. Want you in my arms. Want you naked beneath me in bed. I want nothing more than to hear you cry out my name as you come.”
His searing honesty tore away the last vestiges of her self-restraint. If he wanted her, she was his, and together they would deal with the consequences.
“I want you too Ryan, more than I can say, but if we are going to do this— thing.” She waved her hand in the air. “We have to set ground rules.”
“Agreed.” Thank heavens for a rational male. One who wasn’t letting his cock do all the thinking.
“Getting the fashion collection finished and the runway show ready has to be our highest priority. If we are working on something we can’t just stop and spend the afternoon in bed.”
I can’t believe we are having this conversation, but I want him.
She was ready to make a deal with the devil, so long as it meant Ryan was hers.
Ryan nodded in agreement. “And every time we’re about to do something stupid, we’ll take a minute to think of Julia Spence and her ilk. Because people like her would love nothing more than to see you fail.”
He might not come from her world, but it was clear Ryan wasn’t blind to the jealousy and deep envy which others held for people like her. She in turn was well aware of the demeaning way assistants were treated by some people in the fashion industry.
Camille let out a sigh as Ryan slipped his hand around her waist and drew her into his arms. This kiss was tender, the sealing of a private agreement. It wouldn’t ever stand up in a court of law, but as their mouths melded together, Camille was certain the bond created between them was stronger than anything that could be written on paper.