Chapter 28
TARA
Posey squeals with delight as Henry opens the Rolls-Royce door. "Daddy Cameron!" Posey erupts into a fountain of giggles as Cameron embraces her. Edison woofs a greeting.
"I saw the pictures of you girls eating ice cream," he teases. "Looks like you were having too much fun!"
All the way home, Posey entertains Cameron with feedback on her whale story. Then she regales him with news about Abernathy's arrowhead collection.
"Can we collect arrowheads? The library lady said she'd put the arrowheads we find under a glass case. And that she'd consider giving me my own wing!"
Cameron looks up and meets my eyes. "An arrowhead hunt? I think that can be arranged."
"I'll check the internet for a specialist guide," I say.
When we get back to the estate, I ease Posey out of her new pink shirt and blue jeans. "Do you want to wear your Froggy jammies down to dinner?"
"I'm not hungry," she mumbles sleepily. "Where are my pretty new clothes?"
The shopping bags from our afternoon expedition sit by her dresser like colorful presents. "Henry brought them up from the trunk. Tomorrow you can unwrap them like Christmas presents," I promise.
"Goodie," she sighs, slipping under her blanket.
I tuck the covers around her small form, then retreat to my room.
In the mirror, my reflection proves I look as exhausted as I feel. The cold water I splash on my face does little to wash away the memory of Jason's veiled threats at the library.
His bitter words about "new information" and "digging too deep" echo in my mind.
I find Cameron in the living room, guitar in hand. His expression, the relaxed way he's leaning against the sofa, and Edison at his feet would make a perfect centerfold for a magazine like Rolling Stone.
"Well, I just put Posey to bed," I say, settling across from him on the matching chair. "I didn’t see Mrs. Bixby upstairs. Or Mrs. Bellows in the kitchen. Odd."
"Sorry. I forgot to tell you. Mrs. Bixby texted me to say her sister was ill and asked if she could have time off. Mrs. Bellows volunteered to drive her."
"Oh. The house seems so quiet without them. How was your afternoon?"
"Good," he says with a shrug, strumming some notes. "I saw Salty on Main Street. We had a good chat."
"Was that your sudden appointment?"
He shoots me a questioning look.
"This morning, when we were still in the car, it looked like you got a text message. And had to attend a meeting."
Cameron shakes his head. "That was Mr. White. He needed me to come to his office and sign something."
"Sign what?"
"I didn’t sign my name properly when I gave the sample for the paternity test. It's nothing to worry about. But it could delay our going to New York for a few days."
I nod. "I wish I knew what Jason was planning. I saw him today at the library. I have no idea how he knew we were there."
"He was following you?"
"I don't know. I'm sure it's not one of his hangouts. Do you think he wants to challenge you for custody?"
"He'd be an idiot if he didn't. Controlling Posey's fortune could make him a millionaire many times over."
"He could spend her money?"
"I'm sure his expenditures would need to be reviewed. But he'd be in better circumstances than he is now."
"But I'm sure it won't come to that. You're her father. They can't take Posey away from you."
He doesn't meet my smile.
"That's what the birth certificate says. That's a mark in my favor. We have to wait for the DNA test results. And then wait to see what Jason has planned. There's no point in talking about it until then."
I nod. "So, should I arrange the arrowhead hunt? Posey is very excited about it, and I think it would be fun."
"Sure. Go ahead."
"Would tomorrow work out for you? It's my day off from the opera troupe."
"I think I can manage it," he says with a grin.
I take out my phone and perform an elementary search. "Look at this," I say, moving from the chair to sit beside him on the sofa.
The moment our thighs brush, electricity shoots through me. "There's a guide right here who specializes in four-hour expeditions."
The scent of his musky cologne makes me want to bury my face in his neck. It fills my senses as I lean closer to show him the screen. His body radiates warmth, solid and reassuring after the anxiety of the day.
"Four hours?" He looks up from the phone, and suddenly we're close enough that I can see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes. "That seems like a long time."
But he's not really looking at the phone anymore. He's looking at me, and the intensity in his gaze makes my breath catch in my throat.
"Cameron," I whisper, my voice coming out husky.
His hand reaches behind my cheek, fingers threading through my hair with exquisite slowness. The simple touch sends fire racing through my veins as he pulls my head toward him, his dark eyes never leaving mine.
"Tara," he breathes, his name sounding delicious to my ears.
When his mouth finally meets mine, it's like coming home and losing myself all at once. This kiss is nothing like our drunken encounter in that hotel lobby. This is deliberate, hungry, electric with all the tension that's been building between us for days.
I want the kiss to go on forever. My hands find the back of his neck, fingers exploring the warm skin there as I kiss him back with everything I've been holding inside.
His mouth is hot and demanding, tasting faintly of coffee and something uniquely him, that makes me dizzy with want.
Our hands are everywhere at once. I'm exploring the hard muscles of his biceps, amazed by his unyielding strength.
His rough fingers smooth through my hair and trace the curve of my face with reverent touches.
When his hand ventures lower, cupping my breast through my shirt, a moan escapes my lips.
I move closer, pressing my body against his. Needing more contact, more heat, more of everything he could offer.
Cameron's thumb brushes across my nipple through the thin fabric, and I arch into the touch, gasping his name.
But then, after what feels like both an eternity and no time at all, he stops. We both pull away, panting as if we've run a marathon.
We stare at each other in shock at the intensity of what just happened.
"We can't do this," he says, his voice rough with desire and regret.
The words hit me like ice water. "Why not?"
"There are too many reasons to go into right now." He runs his hand through his hair, mussing its natural gorgeous style.
"You're my daughter's nanny. A relationship will muddle everything up."
"But—"
"Posey needs stability right now. And what would the courts make of it?" His voice turns bitter. "A rockstar hires a nanny and sleeps with her? All I need is that kind of press."
The rejection stings more than it should. "So does that mean we'll never—"
"Tara, I don't know what it means." His voice carries a pain that matches what I'm feeling. "Never say never. I'm just saying that for the next few weeks, we have to be careful. We can't give in to our desire."
The word “desire” hangs between us, heavy with promise and frustration. I can still taste him on my lips, still feel the phantom pressure of his hands on my body.
The ache of wanting him is almost unbearable.
"I'm going to go upstairs," I manage, standing on unsteady legs. "I'll find a tour company for the arrowhead hunt. I'll text my findings."
"Sounds good," he says, but his voice is strained.
As I climb the stairs to my room, my skin still vibrating from his touch, I can't help but remember every second of that kiss. The way his hands felt in my hair, the heat of his mouth, the solid strength of his body against mine.
It was even more magical than our first kiss in that hotel lobby. I can't wait for more.