A Cinderella Affair

Adam

Camille had to smile at that last sentence. She really did want Adam Donovan to be her enemy. It would make her decision not to sell her father’s house a lot easier. But Adam had been nothing but nice to her, probably too nice.

Her cell phone chimed as Camille held the note in her hand, contemplating her feelings. She still held the slip of paper as she moved to her purse and retrieved the phone.

“Camille Davis.”

“Where are you? I’ve been calling your apartment all night. I wanted to find out how things went with Moreen,” Dana said in one breath. For years Camille had wondered how a person could talk so fast without being winded.

Moving to the couch Camille plopped down and laid her head back. “I’m still in Vegas.”

“What? Why? Did she kidnap you?”

Camille chuckled. “You are so dramatic. No, she didn’t kidnap me. I interrupted the meeting before anything could be signed but then one of the buyers asked me to dinner to discuss the deal further.”

“He asked you to dinner?”

Camille wondered why Dana assumed the buyer was a man and could hear the shift in her friend’s tone.

“Was he cute?” Dana asked with growing excitement.

Camille couldn’t resist a smile. “Yes, he’s cute. But that’s not why I went to dinner with him.”

“If he was cute then that should have been the only reason you went with him. You already know you don’t want to sell the house. Why even entertain his offer?”

Camille was asking herself the same question. And the only answer she could come up with was that she wanted a chance to be with Adam Donovan again. “As it turns out I knew him.”

“Really? Who is he?”

Camille groaned inwardly, knowing that the moment she released this tidbit of information Dana was going to flip her lid. “Remember the guy we saw in the casino, the one you wanted me to do?”

“Stop playing! Girl, that fine-ass man is the one trying to buy your property?” Dana practically squealed. “I’d sell him something all right.”

“I just bet you would. If you weren’t happily married, that is. Speaking of which, is Carl back from Phoenix?”

“Yeah, he got back last night. But I don’t want to talk about that. I want to hear about the dinner you had with that hunk.”

“The hunk’s name is Adam Donovan,” Camille said, trying to hide a smile. Although she was only on the phone with Dana she was smiling so hard it was bound to be heard in her voice. “And he seems really nice. It’s a shame I have to kill his deal. But he’s not starving for money so I guess he’ll be okay.”

“Maybe you should prolong your decision, spend a few more days in Vegas getting to know Adam and…” Dana’s voice trailed off.

Camille quickly picked up her drift. “Not happening. I’m meeting with him and his partner at noon. I guess Moreen will be there, too. At any rate, I’m going to put an end to this deal once and for all. I should be back in L.A. tonight.”

“What you should do is cancel that meeting, have a little fun with Adam, then kill the deal and come home.”

“That’s cruel.”

Dana chuckled. “That’s life. Men do it all the time, Camille. Stop being so uptight. You know that guy was feeling you when we were at the bar that night and I’m sure he’s more than happy to have run into you again. Get yourself a little somethin’ somethin’ and then go back to business. You deserve it.”

“And what about him? Does he deserve a one-night stand?” Not that Camille was even considering this idea.

“Like I said, men do it all the time. I’m sure he’s done it a few times, as well. And I’m not saying it has to be just a one-night stand. I know how you are about sex and commitment. I’m just saying you should explore your options with this guy and see where things might lead.”

Camille sighed. “They might lead to him cursing me out since he paid for my hotel stay and is apparently footing the bill for my wardrobe for the day since I didn’t plan on staying here. I’m sure he could say it was just business and write it off as that but it’s going to be crappy that I’m not going through with his deal after all this.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that, Camille. Why won’t you sell the house? You have no plans on living there. Is it just to get back at Moreen?”

“No!” Camille answered quickly. “I don’t know,” she sighed. “It just seems like it’s too soon to let it go. To let him go.”

“But he is gone, Camille. Keeping that house isn’t going to bring him back.”

“I know,” she said sadly. Her stomach growled and Camille instantly thought of the meager dinner she’d had and the breakfast she craved. Scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes and orange juice sounded divine. Then she let the hand with the note from Adam fall to her stomach and felt the cushiony softness. Yogurt and fruit would have to suffice.

“I’d better get ready for the meeting. I’ll call you later with my flight info so you can pick me up,” she told Dana.

“Okay, but remember what I said, Camille. Take a chance for once, give yourself an early Christmas gift.”

Camille disconnected with Dana with every intention of ignoring her friend’s advice.

She’d tried on a dozen or so business suits and an equal amount of dresses and wasn’t totally satisfied with any of them. While the boutique was very well stocked and carried a lot of her designs, Camille just couldn’t seem to find the right outfit. Everything made her look fat. A part of her knew it was just the complex she’d had all her life and that the size twelve outfits didn’t look that bad on her, but then another part remembered that Moreen would be at that meeting.

Moreen would be dressed in something chic and expensive and she’d look gorgeous and skinny with her svelte size-six body. Today, of all days, Camille needed to be one hundred percent. She needed to feel like she owned the world along with half her father’s house. Moreen would be angry and that would make her sharper, more vindictive and nastier than usual. Max Donovan would no doubt be on point after having spoken to his company lawyers and real estate appraisers again. And then there was Adam.

Adam would be handsome and debonair and charming. All the things he’d been last night and then some. Yeah, she definitely had to be ready for this meeting. And a glance at her watch told her if she didn’t pick an outfit and hustle upstairs to her room she’d start off by being late, which wasn’t a good thing.

An hour later and twenty minutes ahead of schedule Camille stepped out of the Gramercy to a seasonably warm October day. She’d settled on the charcoal gray silk suit with the knee-length flared skirt and fitted jacket that covered her too-round bottom. Sassy Milano pumps gave her height, which ultimately made her appear slimmer, while the excellent cut of the jacket concealed any bulging at her waist and accented her generous bosom. She felt professional, yet attractive and sure of her appearance for a change.

One of her company’s mottos was to do just that. To provide clothes that appealed to every woman of all sizes and classes, to make each woman feel sexy and self-assured. The weird thing was that for the majority of her life, Camille hadn’t felt any of those things herself. It had been only in the last five years that she’d begun to gain some sense of confidence. And while it wasn’t much, she had learned to take her victories in small doses.

Besides, this meeting would be over quickly and then she’d be on her way back to L.A. She had a show to do in two weeks. This little trip was putting her behind schedule and that too was beginning to worry her. There were so many things that still needed to be done. Meetings with the technicians at the theater where the fashion show was being held, last minute alterations and changes to the lineup, model contracts and the reception for three hundred of L.A.’s high-class society and the press. She could not afford these two days away from her office, yet it was necessary.

They arrived at the building before Camille had her game plan in order. On the ride over, after she’d pushed aside CK Davis Designs business, she’d begun to think about why she was here in Vegas. Her father’s house. The house where she’d grown up, where she’d had the best times with her father. Now her father was gone and if she didn’t stop it, his house would be, too. How did she really feel about that? Extremely sad, she admitted. Tears stung her eyes and she tried to take deep breaths to hold them at bay.

She stepped onto the elevator and let her head fall back against the wall. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry,” she chanted over and over until she thought she had herself under control.

The meeting was starting in ten minutes and she still hadn’t arrived. Adam had tried not to appear nervous. He wasn’t nervous. She was just a woman, just a client actually. And after today, after she signed over her share in the house, she wouldn’t even be that. He could stand here and try to convince himself that this would be the end of their involvement but that would be stupid and a waste of time. And if there was one thing Adam Donovan did not believe in doing it was wasting time.

Last night she’d appealed to him on a level he hadn’t even known existed in his mind. She’d needed him in a way he’d never been needed before. She was having some type of breakdown and he’d been there for her. He hadn’t a clue what he was doing at the time, however. All he knew was that she was in trouble and he was determined to help her. Afterwards she’d seemed to open up a little more. She laughed and she talked—not too much about herself—but she’d seemed very interested in his childhood and his family life. They’d talked for a while until she just about collapsed from exhaustion. He’d watched her sleep for a few minutes there on the couch with her legs in his lap, her head cradled by her arm resting on the back of the chair.

She looked stressed even in her sleep. He’d brushed his hand over her forehead, trying to smooth away the worry lines there but had been unsuccessful. Whatever it was that bothered her so deeply attacked her even in sleep.

This morning he’d awakened with a tense body and a mind still full of Camille Davis. He wanted to call her, to offer to have breakfast with her. Anything, because he’d felt desperate to see her. But then Max had called wanting to meet with him alone before their meeting with the Davis women.

He’d been in this building for four hours already and was itching to see Camille, to at least talk to her. After finally finding a reasonable excuse to leave Max’s office Adam had headed for the elevators. He was pacing in front of the doors, his hands in both pockets of his pants as he waited for the elevator to arrive. His shoes clicked against the marble floor and he wondered what was taking Camille so long. It was his plan to ride downstairs, to look for Virgil and his car and then to call the hotel if need be.

He heard the ding signaling that the elevator was there and stopped directly in front of it. The doors opened and his heart gave a staggered beat.

Camille stood against the wall, her eyes closed tightly, her hands gripping the handrail until her knuckles turned white. Of course he rushed to her side and of course he touched her, it would have taken an army of men to prevent him from doing otherwise.