Chapter Seventeen #2
He laughed. “You kidding me? I would rather hear what your instincts are screaming than whatever preconceived notion you have on date conversations.”
Date made her insides feel gooey. He really was treating it like a date even after clearly pointing out that he was leaving in the near future and rebuffing her embarrassing advances.
He shrugged. “Besides, I owe you answers. The only thing that needs to happen is your list of questions.”
“Now?”
The corners of his lips quirked. “Shoot.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Ha.” He snorted. “Why would I have a girlfriend when I’m here with you?”
“You’ve gotta be a thousand miles away from home.”
“I kissed you,” he pointed out.
Kiss was an understatement. Nervously, she twisted her fingers. “What happens on the job stays on the job?”
“Guess I’ve got more to prove to you than I realized. I’m not an asshole.” He tapped his index finger against his water glass. “Is it hard for you to trust me?”
“No, actually. I don’t know why I asked you that.” She waited as their server returned with their drinks.
Camden thanked her without appearing to notice the ways she batted her eyes at him and ignored Amelia.
Alone again, she asked, “Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”
He chuckled as though she’d asked a better question.
“The easy answer would be I’m too busy, that work doesn’t allow for it.
But it’s easy to point out that my teammates are all married.
” He lifted his shoulders. “So that answer doesn’t ring true.
” He took a sip of his Manhattan. “It’s simpler. I’m not the relationship type.”
“Oh. You’re the love-’em-and-leave-’em type.” But that wasn’t true. He had clearly warned her against sleeping with him. “How did I miss that? You don’t seem like a player.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m not.”
“Emotionally unavailable?”
“Nope.”
“Immature?”
“Nah. A little impulsive, maybe, but not immature.”
“Hung up on the woman who broke your heart?”
Camden laughed. “Not that one either.”
“So what’s wrong with you?”
“Guess I’m perfect.” He winked. “What about you?”
She rolled her eyes but let out a judgmental sigh. “I’m a workaholic so deep in it that I didn’t realize my sister was a spy.”
“You’re going to have to get over the not knowing.”
She tried not to pout. “It’s easier said than done.
” Amelia chewed the inside of her cheek.
“I’m a little bit of a control freak.” That was why she’d wanted to let go and let Camden take on that burden.
In bed. Heat rose to her cheeks. She wondered if he knew that.
His index finger tapped against the Manhattan again as though he might have an inkling.
Their appetizer arrived. She spooned the cheese onto a toasted baguette—the screech of a fire alarm wailed. Diners gasped. Silverware clattered. False alarm or a kitchen fire? A moment of uncertain surprise hung in the dining room as everyone waited for everyone else to make a move.
“Sorry for the interruption—” the restaurant manager called between wailing cries of the fire alarm. Bright white lights strobed. He directed the room as though flagging a Boeing 747 into a terminal parking spot. “—proceed downstairs—” The alarm wailed again. “—apologize for—”
The diners nearest them stood. Camden caught Amelia’s arm.
“Hang tight.” He scanned the room. For the most part, patrons shoved arms into jackets and gathered belongings.
They fell into a single-file line down the stairs.
One man was chugging his beer. Another shoveled dinner into his mouth.
Most weren’t going to wait for the fire marshal to show up and announce they could proceed back to their soon-to-be cold meals.
Camden bucked the trend and ignored the single-file line. He moved to the wall by the front of the building and quickly peeked out the window. A strobe light spun above his head. Amelia crept to his side. “What are you looking at?”
“Trouble.”
She glanced at the window closer to her. Her heart seized. “Cam.”
Two men were watching the stream of restaurant diners flooding into the cold night. The roar of approaching first-responder vehicles intermixed with the fire alarm. Their lights colored the busy street, announcing their arrival moments before they screeched to a halt.
“Excuse me.” The manager hurried over. “You have to leave.”
Camden took her hand and hustled down the stairs. He stopped a woman coming from the kitchen as she pulled off a chef’s hat and on a coat over a kitchen uniform. “Two hundred bucks for your hat and jacket.”
She frowned but immediately took Camden up on the offer when he showed the cash.
“Put it on,” he told Amelia. “Quick.” He stopped a man wearing the same stained kitchen uniform and made the same offer.
Amelia pulled the white jacket over her clothes. It smelled of grease and food and had stains splashed on the sleeves. He did the same.
“Leave your jacket. Tuck your hair up.”
She balled it all under the hat and pulled it as low as it would go.
They stayed close to the last group of kitchen workers and followed them into the back alley.
For as large and tall as Camden was, he managed to disappear into the small group.
Some joked. Others pulled out smokes. He made conversation with a man in Spanish.
She ducked her chin. They filtered past two men that stood like sentries searching for a woman on a date.
A fireman poked his head out the door they’d just stepped from. “Farther back. Farther back, people. Remember the drills from kindergarten.”
The horde of kitchen staff continued past the dumpsters.
Some kept going. Others clumped up. Soon, they would stand out as impostors among the group.
She glanced at Camden. Well, maybe not him.
He had become one of the guys. How could he morph into another person in front of her eyes?
Amelia stood out like a beacon of fear, with her stiff walk and inability to look anywhere but at her feet or Camden.
“Keep walking,” he said as though they’d been chitchatting easily the entire time. “Not too fast.”
She wanted him to take her hand or to pull her to safety.
“Good. Just like that. Right foot. Left foot.” He strolled by her side as they peeled off from the herd. “Don’t forget to breathe.”