Chapter One #2
That last tour, though, he’d almost gotten himself killed. He still remembered the sound of the gunfire, the bomb going off, the power of it propelling the truck he’d rode in to flip over. He thought for sure he’d been close to death, if not actually dying.
Pulled from his grim memories, Cameron caught sight of Chloe slipping through the open double doors that led onto the terrace.
She’d gone alone, after leaving her mother with Cam’s oldest brother, Patrick.
Everyone else was still in full party mode, and they didn’t notice she was gone.
The champagne flowed, the music was loud, and there was lots of laughter and happy, chattering voices.
All the noise made him want to escape. Just like Chloe had.
Without thought he headed toward those beckoning open doors.
Why, he wasn’t sure. Would he talk to her?
He rarely did beyond polite pleasantries.
She was younger than him by four years, sweet in that wholesome, too-good way.
And he’d caught her more than once looking at him with an uninhibited, adoring gaze.
As if she believed he could hang the moon and touch the stars.
That was the furthest thing from the truth. What he touched usually turned to dust—at least in the relationship department.
But still he went after her, breathing deep the cool evening air when he ventured outside.
The scent of pine overwhelmed him, calming and familiar.
The bright full moon hung low, obliterating the blanket of stars that usually dotted the velvet sky.
A breeze wafted across him, cooling his heated skin, rustling through the thick trees, and the sound felt like a gentle sigh easing his pained soul.
Cam frowned. Waxing poetic. What he usually did when he wanted to wallow in a dark mood.
He spotted her standing at the very end of the terrace, leaning against the railing, her face tipped up to the sky.
The wind swept across her skirts, causing the fabric to billow and swirl, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of leg before it settled into place once more, hitting at mid-calf. Covering those shapely knees.
His skin tightened. She had a great set of legs, long and slender, with gently flaring hips and a nipped-in waist.
Why had he never noticed before?
It pleased the photographer in him to watch people unaware.
Could easily imagine photographing Chloe with little direction.
The moon lit her pale skin with a luminosity that made her glow.
Gilded her dark hair with threads of gold.
And illuminated her profile so that she looked the sprite, a pretty, sexy little woodland fairy…
“I know you’re there, Cam.” Her soft voice reached him, and he noted the amusement lacing her sweet, lilting tone. “If you’re looking for Mac, he’s inside. Probably still cutting loose on the dance floor.”
He approached her, his steps light and careful, drinking in those exposed slender shoulders with his greedy gaze.
Her hair was swept to the side, an abundance of dark waves that cascaded artfully.
All the bridesmaids were dressed the same.
The dark purple strapless dress, the hairstyle, the flowers, even the damn jewelry—his sister had planned it to the very last detail.
So why did none of the other women capture his attention like this one?
“I’m not looking for Mac.” He stopped a few feet from her, still not close enough to touch. Not that he had any business touching her. She was off limits. Untouchable.
Forbidden.
Cameron didn’t do relationships. He didn’t mess around with sweet, beautiful girls who wanted it all when he could offer nothing.
And Chloe was the epitome of the sweet, beautiful girl who wanted it all.
She probably deserved it, too. Wanting to settle down with a good hometown boy and live forever in Lone Pine Lake, making babies and becoming members of the chamber of commerce or some such crap.
Yeah. The thought alone had him ready to run.
Slowly, she turned to face him, her head tilted to the side. Causing all that pretty hair to tumble farther, falling past her chest. Inviting him to thread his fingers through the strands, see if they were as soft as they looked. “Who are you looking for, then?”
He parted his lips, rationale momentarily preventing him from saying it. This—this feeling he was experiencing was ridiculous, illogical, and a complete waste of time. But the words fell from his lips as if he had no control over them.
“I was looking for you.”
Her eyes widened the slightest bit, her jaw dropping. He’d shocked her. No surprise—he’d shocked himself. “Why?”
Cam came closer until he stood by her side, facing the opposite direction, out toward the meadow where plenty of weddings had taken place, including Jane’s.
She and Chris had planned a sunset ceremony, knowing how damn good the spot looked with the sun sinking into the horizon, its golden pink glow casting the thicket of evergreens that lined the property with a pinkish hue that took many a breath away.
It had been a gorgeous ceremony. He was happy for his sister. She deserved this second chance at love.
But was he happy to be back in Lone Pine Lake, even for such a short period of time?
Nope. Not really.
“You cold?” he asked when he saw Chloe shiver. If he still had his jacket on, he would’ve offered it to her. Draped it over those slim shoulders, his fingers accidentally brushing her skin. Would she enjoy his touch? Or look at him like he was crazy?
That he even contemplated such a thing proved he was crazy.
“I’m fine.” She shrugged those very fine shoulders, casting him a sideways glance. Luckily enough she ignored that he’d ignored her question. “We should probably go inside. They might be cutting the cake.”
The music still blared. He didn’t hear the overenthusiastic DJ announce anything. “They’re not cutting the cake.”
She nibbled on her lower lip. He caught the nervous gesture from the corner of his eye. It sent a bolt of lust shooting through him and he shoved it down. “I guess we should make small talk, then,” she said.
Why did she sound so damn reluctant? “Guess so.”
Breathing deeply, she turned to face him, her breasts brushing against his forearm, which he had propped on the edge of the railing.
Just like that, his entire body tightened, became achingly aware of this pretty, tempting female standing by his side.
“I’m sure you’ve been asked this a million times already tonight, but how long are you staying in town? ”
If he had his way, it would be less than twenty-four hours. But considering he had no job to return to, no home, no prospects, and he was a messed-up head case, he was here for the long haul. “Not sure.”
She frowned. “What sort of answer is that?”
“An honest one. I’m not sure.”
An irritated sigh left her and she mimicked his position, leaning against the railing, her elbow bumping his. “You’ve always been a man of few words, haven’t you?”
“As few as possible.” He shrugged, then looked over at her. “It’s worked for me so far.”
Her gaze met his, pretty dark brown eyes studying him. Looking right through him. He wanted to squirm where he stood. “It’s always driven me crazy.”
“What’s driven you crazy?” It startled him, that revelation.
He irritated her? How? He rarely saw her now, and when she was younger, he’d merely tolerated her.
Even though there had been those times she and Jane had been such thorough pains in his ass, he’d been tempted to take a long drive with them and leave the two giggling girls in the middle of nowhere.
Hope like hell they’d find their own way back.
“Your lack of communication,” she answered, training her gaze once more on the meadow instead. “You never want to talk.”
“Talk can sometimes be meaningless.”
“I love to talk.” She smiled, bright and sunny, full of bubbly happiness. “It’s part of my job, a part of me. I’ve been told I have excellent communication skills.”
He bet she did. And if she knew just how dirty his thoughts were in regards to her and all her skills, she’d probably run screaming from the balcony.
“I used to get in trouble in class for talking too much. Isn’t that funny? Well, not really since it was true. But now I’m the teacher, busting the kids for talking too much when I’m as guilty as they are.” She paused, pressing her lips together. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”
She’d always rambled. When they were younger, he found it annoying. Now it was kind of cute. He realized she was extremely nervous.
Why?
“So why were you looking for me, Cam?” she asked when he hadn’t said a word. He was too entranced with how the moonlight cast her cheeks with light, how fathomless her eyes were, how ripe her mouth appeared. No cosmetics touched it, yet her natural lip color was a deep, rosy pink.
He had the sudden urge to kiss her. Something he’d never, ever contemplated doing.
“I don’t know,” he finally answered when he realized she was waiting. “I saw you sneak out here.”
“You did?”
Cam nodded. “You aren’t upset, are you?”
“No.” She shook her head, a sad smile curling those tempting lips. “Feeling a little down, maybe.”
“Why?” He rarely asked that question—it opened up an endless array of problems, endless talking, endless…everything.
“Everyone’s moving on, doing fabulous things with their lives. Including you.” She inclined her head toward him. “Big-shot photographer traveling the world.”
He snorted. Big-shot photographer brought down a few pegs and now without a job. “I’m no big shot.”