Chapter 7
ADAM
With my hands in my pockets, I wait for Camille to answer her door.
Today is day one of her renovation, and I can’t wait to get started. Not only am I excited about this project, and the great addition it will make to my portfolio, but I’m looking forward to working closely with Camille.
Almost. Every. Day.
This project will take months, and I’ll spend most of my workdays here managing the construction. The thought of seeing Camille that often makes me smile.
But right now, I’m freezing my ass off standing on her front porch. I knock again and wait.
God, I can’t wait to see her. It’s been too long since our last meeting, but life and other work kept getting in the way. I’m not sure what makes me happier—the project or the prospect of seeing Camille so often.
That’s not true. I know it’s Camille.
I’ve only spent a few hours with her over the course of several weeks, but it didn’t take long to figure out she’s special. I should be more guarded with my emotions and focus on the project, not the woman behind the project. But I can’t help myself. It’s not often a woman catches my eye.
That woman captivates me. In a few short weeks, she’s managed to take up permanent residence in my mind. A day doesn’t go by when I don’t think about her at least once. Who am I kidding? More like multiple times a day, plus in my dreams.
My dreams are the worst. I’ve woken up hard every morning this past week in anticipation of today.
I’ve dreamt about all the places and ways I could take her.
In her kitchen on the center island that has seen better days.
Or in her bathroom in that large tub that looks more like a hot tub from the seventies.
Or in front of the fireplace with nothing beneath us but a soft blanket—our bodies providing all the warmth we need.
Dammit, my erection is pressing against my jeans and it's starting to hurt.
Lusting over a client won’t do. Especially when that client is still struggling with the loss of her husband. A husband I have no doubt she loved very much.
“Clean thoughts, Adam. Clean thoughts.” I take a deep breath of cold air and knock again.
With my mind heading in the wrong direction, I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been waiting outside.
It’s colder than typical for this time of year.
It’s not uncommon for a snowstorm to blow through in early spring, but these freezing temperatures don’t usually come with it.
It feels more like the dead of winter than the start of spring.
A good twelve inches of snow fell through the night. Any more than that, and I would have had to delay the start of this project. But the plow trucks were out early clearing the roads, and her driveway is passable for my work truck.
The cold is starting to chill my bones. I knock again. She should have answered by now.
I listen for sounds of movement on the other side of the door.
Silence.
One more loud knock.
I check the time. Five minutes after seven. I’m not early. We confirmed the start time two days ago after exchanging a few text messages. This seems out of character for her. In the few weeks I’ve been working with her, she’s never been late or missed a deadline.
I pull out my phone and shoot her a quick text. Maybe something came up, and she had to leave. That doesn’t sound like something she’d do without communicating, but emergencies happen. Though my tracks are the only ones in the snow.
I wait a few minutes with no response.
Dread fills me as my mind starts to wander down a negative path. What if something happened to her? What if she’s hurt?
“Fuck.” I hate doing this without her permission, but I take the spare key she gave me and let myself in.
I shiver when I step into her foyer, and it's just as cold inside as it is outside.
“Camille.” I listen for any sounds or movements before I step toward the stairs. “Camille! Are you here?”
No response.
The cold temperatures in the chalet worry me—almost as much as the fact that Camille isn’t answering.
I turn toward the garage to check on her old, rickety furnace.
The pilot light is on, but the fan isn’t running.
Ricky has been concerned that the motor might go soon.
If it isn’t the motor, maybe the thermostat malfunctioned.
Not willing to waste another second, I rush upstairs. I hate going to her bedroom, but I know something is wrong. If she gets mad at me, so be it. I’d rather her be mad and know she’s alright than risk not checking.
Her bedroom is empty, and her bed is cold. I check every room upstairs, and she’s nowhere to be found. Rushing back downstairs, I call out for her again.
Still no response.
I check the thermostat, and it’s off. I flip it a few times, but the furnace doesn’t kick on. “Dammit.”
I grab my phone and shoot a quick text to Ricky. He isn’t scheduled to come out today, but if the furnace is busted, I’ll need him to fix it.
He responds immediately and says he’ll head out soon. Hopefully, he can fix it because there’s no way Camille can stay in this house with these temperatures. My hands and feet are already numb from the short time I’ve been here.
“Camille! If you’re here, answer me.” I call out again.
Silence.
She must have left and stayed somewhere in town last night. That’s the most logical thing for her to have done. I wish she called me, though, so I wouldn’t worry. Plus, I could’ve arranged for Ricky to come out and take a look at it sooner.
I head toward the front door to grab my tools and plans from the truck when I stop.
Something still doesn’t sit right with me.
If Camille left the house because of the furnace, she would’ve told me.
I’m certain of that. Then, the image of her car in the garage hits me.
I was so focused on the furnace; her car didn’t register.
She’s excited to get this renovation underway, and there’s no way she’d forget I’d be here today. Furnace failure or not, Camille’s too actively involved in the process to not be here.
I turn around and start a systematic search of the house.
Most of the rooms are empty. She’s moved the majority of her unpack boxes to the garage and left her furniture in the living space closest to the front door.
But there are several more rooms and open spaces toward the back of the house that overlook the mountains.
As soon as I enter the last room, my nerves settle.
I finally find her in the one room farthest to the back of the chalet with the only working fireplace.
She’s curled into a ball with several blankets over her.
The fire is down to nothing but embers. It’s not burning enough to produce any heat. Especially not for a room this size.
“Camille!” She doesn’t move when I call her name. When I reach her, I panic at the sight of her pale face. She’s trembling, and her lips are a faint purple-blue. I place the back of my hand to her cheek, and her skin feels almost as cold as the air around us.
I give her a slight shake to wake her, and she mumbles as she rolls toward me.
“Camille. Can you talk to me please?”
Her eyes flicker open and meet my worried gaze. “S … So … So cold.”
“All right. Let’s get you warm.” Starting with the fireplace, I add more kindling and wood until it’s blazing.
I tuck Camille in closer to the hearth where the heat can reach her faster.
“Stay close to the brick. I’ve got a portable heater in my truck.
We’re going to get you in a hot bath. Be right back. ”
I rush out of the house with my phone in hand.
I have one portable heater with me, but several more back in the office.
I shoot a quick text to Ricky asking him to swing by and grab more before he heads out.
He responds before I reach my truck and says he’s already grabbed them and will be here in ten minutes.
I can always count on Ricky and should’ve known he already thought to grab them.
Especially considering the cold front that came through last night.
With the heater in hand, I run upstairs to her bathroom and plug it in. If I shut the room up, the heater should warm the space quickly. A hot bath would be the fastest way to bring up her body temperature. Between that and the heater, she’ll be warm in no time.
I turn the water to the hottest temperature I can withstand and then dial it back a notch. I don’t want to shock her body, only warm her up as fast as possible. I can already feel the heat pushing out the cold from the heater alone.
With the bath water running, I shut the door and run back downstairs to get Camille.
She’s passed out again. I sweep her up in my arms and hold her close to my chest. Her head falls into the crook of my neck, and despite how cold her lips are when they touch my skin, a rush of heat runs through my entire body.
Dammit, this woman does it for me. She’s freezing half to death—literally—and my body ignites with so much lust and desire I should be ashamed of myself.
My arms tighten around her—more out of reflex than anything.
The urge to protect her is strong, and I hate that she was alone in this house with no heat on one of the coldest nights we’ve had in weeks.
The temperatures are well below zero outside and are predicted to stay this low for the next several days.
If Ricky can’t fix her furnace, there’s no way she can stay here.
“Worry about that later, man.” I mumble to myself.
“Hmmm.” A soft breath from her lips tickles my neck.
I reach the bathroom and slip inside as quickly as I can so as not to let the cold air in. It’s already considerably warmer here than in the rest of her house. “Can you stand?”
She nods, but I’m not convinced. Instead, I sit her down next to the tub, so she can lean against it without falling over.
“I’ve got a hot bath running for you. I’ll turn the water off in a minute. Do you think you can get yourself in?”
Her eyes shoot open, and she stares at me.
Surprise covers her expression first, but then it fades to something a little more like satisfaction.
A faint smile tugs at her lips. “Adam?” My name is no more than a whisper on her lips, which are starting to turn more pinkish than blue. “When did you get here?”
“Not long. You feeling a bit warmer?”
She nods as she closes her eyes and breathes in deep.
I turn off the water and kneel next to her on the floor. “Let’s get you standing, okay?”
She pushes her arms through the blanket that’s still wrapped around her and takes my hands. I sigh in relief when her hands feel warm against mine.
She stands, her legs wobbly at first. But then wraps her arms around my waist. Her body is pressed against mine just like I’ve dreamed about. She’s soft and sensual and causes my insides to stir with excitement.
She looks up at me, and I see the same desire swimming in her eyes that I feel consuming me. Her gaze shifts to my mouth, and her lips part slightly. I think she might kiss me, but then she releases me and steps back.
“Thanks,” she says.
I nod, and because I have no clue what else to say, I ask, “You good?”
“I think so.” Her voice is stronger, and the color is returning to her face.
“Okay. The water is hot and should warm you up pretty fast. I need to meet Ricky downstairs, so we can set up some more portable heaters for you until he can get the furnace working.”
She nods as I slip my hands from hers. I instantly miss her skin against mine and want to take them back. I want her lips, cold or not, brushing against my skin again. And more than anything, I want to pull her into my arms and feel her body pressed close to mine with nothing between us.
I shake my head and reach for the door handle. This isn’t the time or place for that. Hell, I shouldn’t be thinking about making a move on this woman under any circumstances. She’s my client, and I need to keep my hands and my mouth to myself no matter how much I want her.
“Holler if you need anything, okay?” The words tumble out of me all sticky and thick. I feel like a teenager with a one-track mind. I hope I don’t sound like one, too.
Once I’m certain she’s fine, I leave.
It’ll be a miracle if I survive this renovation project. Fifteen minutes in and I already want this woman more than I’ve ever wanted a woman before. It doesn’t help that the look in her eyes suggests she wants me, too.