Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Ryan was standing at the kitchen counter slicing up vegetables when Camille wandered downstairs a little while later. The sight of him happily preparing their dinner had her slowing her steps. This blissful scene of domesticity tugged at her heart. She took in the smile on Ryan’s face, and found herself doing the same.
I’m falling for him, and I don’t know what to do.
This was a short term employment contract between them. It had no future. But her heart was making its demands loud and clear. She’d be a fool to let this end.
The sex was amazing, but for him that’s all it might ever be.
Camille swallowed down a lump of dread. She’d just had the best sex of her life, and she was already second guessing the future.
Ryan glanced up from where he was working, and the moment their gazes met, his whole face lit up with joy. “Hey, how was your shower?”
The pressure had been brilliant, the water the perfect temperature. Super-hot. Just the way she liked it. The fact that she’d just had a mind blowing orgasm probably had something to do with her appreciation of the shower.
“Considering that we are on an island I didn’t expect it to be all that good, but I could have stayed under the water all day.” Camille pointed to the pile of vegetables Ryan had already cut up. “What are you making?”
“ We are making a stir fry. There are some sliced chicken breasts in the refrigerator and the pantry has a Sichuan style sauce. I’ve even managed to find the fancy rice cooker. I hope you’re hungry.”
After their long slow session of lovemaking, she was positively starving. “I’ll go and check the wine cellar and see what they have that will pair nicely with the food,” offered Camille.
At the rear of the kitchen a small set of wooden steps led down to a wine cellar. Camille flicked on the light and headed down. She took in the amazing selection of wine bottles which were stacked in racks on either side of the brick lined cellar.
Paul, the housekeeper, hadn’t been stretching the truth when he’d said it was a fully stocked cellar. While it wouldn’t hold a candle to her father’s extensive collection in the old catacombs under the family’s chateau in France, it was more than respectable.
“There is a bottle of Nicolas Feuillatte champagne already chilling in the fridge, if you want to just look for a white wine,” shouted Ryan, from upstairs in the kitchen.
He really did think of everything.
“Ok thanks!” she called back.
She spent a good fifteen minutes examining the wine collection. The owners of Trade Winds certainly knew their stuff. There was a great mix of French and American wines, along with some bold Australian reds.
After choosing an unwooded Californian Chardonay, Camille headed back upstairs. Ryan took the bottle from her hands, and gave it a quick once over.
“I bet you know a ton about wine. I’ve got a bit of an idea of what goes with what, but that’s about it. Unfortunately my taste in fine wine and my bank balance have never been quite in sync,” he said with smile.
His words drew her up short. She’d never had to think twice about the cost of things. The closest she’d ever come to actually worrying about money was when her father had cut her off. And with Bryce already lined up to invest in her company, her financial crisis had been little more than a minor hiccup.
But I am who I am—I won’t ever apologize for that.
“Remind me to take you to one of the family vineyards sometime. You can choose between France or Italy. I actually prefer the vineyard in Chianti, Tuscany but don’t ever tell my father. He has a thing about competing with the Italian side of the family.”
Ryan bent and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Your dad sounds like a lot of fun.”
She hated speaking of her father like this. Francois wasn’t a bad man. Stubborn. Yes. Pigheaded. Absolutely. But he was also a proud Frenchman who only wanted the best for his children and his family. One day hopefully he would see that her success reflected well on him, that she was part of his design legacy.
But not today. Today I’m going to think of gorgeous American men and their skills both in the bedroom and the kitchen.
“You said we were cooking, so what can I do?” she asked.
He handed Camille a vegetable knife, then slid two carrots across the chopping board toward her. “We are going to start your culinary career by teaching you how to slice carrots.”
She grinned up at him. “I’m thinking I might call my first cookbook Camille’s Cuisine what do you think?”
Ryan’s sexy chuckle went straight to her soul. “I think you should worry about holding that knife properly and not cutting yourself.”
It was close to eleven o’clock when Ryan opened a second bottle of wine. Once he and Camille had eaten their fill of the delicious stir fry, they had lounged in the pair of Adirondack chairs which sat on the front porch. They’d talked for hours. She’d told him stories of her amazing upbringing and the places she had travelled while he’d explained the delicate art of making the perfect Ristretto coffee.
“I had no idea that it was so unforgiving if you get any of it wrong,” said Camille, toying with her wine glass. “I’d always just assumed it was an espresso but with a little less water.”
Ryan shook his head. “But it can’t be bitter. That’s where many great baristas go wrong.”
He was passionate about his coffee making. She could just imagine that he put as much effort into it as he did his planning work.
“You said you don’t have a creative bone in your body, but I think you sell yourself short. The way you handled that stir fry was masterful. You have a real flair in the kitchen. And your coffee making skills are without question.”
But he wants more from his life.
Camille reached out and lay her hand gently on Ryan’s arm. “You started at college, but never finished. Why was that?”
They had shared their bodies. Now she wanted to know more about him. About what truly made Ryan tick.
He puffed out his cheeks. “Money. Or to be more accurate, the lack of it. My folks were able to fund the first year of college for me. I worked and studied through to the end of the next year. In the end, I couldn’t afford to keep going.”
She sensed there was more to the story, but decided to let it go. Ryan slowly shook his head. “No, that’s not quite right. If I really had wanted to finish school, I probably could have found a way, taken out a student loan. But I’d got it into my head that I didn’t need the degree—I could make it on my own.”
A wry chuckle escaped his lips. “And eight years later here I am, still trying to get out of the starting blocks.”
“Do you know what you want to do?” She asked tentatively.
“Not really. And that’s part of the problem. I can’t see the road ahead.” He paused and took a sip of his wine. “What about you? I bet you went to a super exclusive French university, then decided to pursue a career in fashion.”
Camille rolled her eyes. “I’m not a complete cliché. I never finished what you Americans call high school. My sister Sophie and I were helping in our father’s atelier from an early age. I was basically working full time for him before I turned fifteen.”
Not that anyone from the French ministry of education was ever going to come and knock on the Royal family door and ask why Camille wasn’t in class.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t keep assuming that everything in your life has been handed to you on a silver platter. That’s unfair.”
“It’s true I have had a huge amount given to me. I am very much aware of my privilege. But still it would have been nice to have been given the choice to finish school.”
She was hoping that her questions were not a judgement against him, but rather a genuine need to understand what he wanted with his life.
Camille tucked her knees under her. “If you had the chance to go back and finish your studies, would you, do it? I mean, would having a degree make the difference?”
Ryan’s brows furrowed. She sensed it wasn’t a question he was particularly comfortable with answering. If he said yes, then it meant basically admitting he had wasted the better part of his twenties when he should have been studying. But if he said no, then it meant he hadn’t capitalized on the skills he already had.
“I don’t honesty know. The one thing I do know is that the past few weeks working for you have given me some serious things to think about. When this job is over, I don’t want to go back to making coffee.”
The offer of a full time job with her was ready on Camille’s lips, but she held it back. They had slept together once. If she went ahead and offered him a job and then their romantic relationship soured, things could get messy.
Not yet. Give it time.