The spell was broken and a clarity returned to Beau's eyes. He fumbled through his pocket to fetch his phone.
“Sup Hunter? Yeah, man. Don't worry. I'm heading up thereliterallyright now. Okay okay okay. I'm coming. Sorry dude.”
He hung up and stashed the phone back in his pocket.
“Sorry babe. I really gotta go. Hunter's all pissy and worried that I'm going to get him busted.” But then he neared me again. Heknew better—you could see it on his face!—but still he put his large hand between my legs, slowly up my thighs, and slid his fingers gently against my folds.
“But Beau … they need you right now …” I moaned, spreading my legs open for him, daring him to finger me.
He shook his head and snapped out of his trance. “God! The hell am I doing? I can't even leave you!”
“You better go,” I said. “You better gonowbecause if you stay a second longer, I'm going to try to lure you right back into bed.”
“One kiss,” Beau said.
We kissed. Short, but so sweet—two pairs of lips full of promise and hope.
And then we said goodbye.
And then I watched as Beau backed away slowly, smiling at me, as if he were committing the sight of me—naked and sprawled out in our secret hotel bed—to memory.
“One week,” I said quietly after the door shut. “One week. Well, let's see how this goes.”
Chapter 22
A Week Apart
Camille
One week later.
“I've got a surprise for you.”
That was the text message Beau had sent me first thing this morning. I asked him what the surprise was, but he didn't reply. It was the first time in a week he'd left me hanging.
His flight was scheduled to arrive from Montreal late this morning. I knew he'd be in town soon, and the idea of seeing him again made me feel like a nervous school-girl about to see her crush all over again.
Butterflies in my stomach.
Never-ending trips to the mirror to make sure I looked good, just in case he sprung in on me.
Panic that I'd go all tongue-tied and mealy-mouthed when I saw him again … hell,ifI saw him again!Does he even want to see me again? What if he changed his mind?What if he fucked some cute French-Canadian girl last night in Montreal?
“Camiiiiile. Hey. Camille!”
I snapped out of my daydream when Piper's finger needled at my shoulder.
“Huh? Hey, what's up?”
She pointed at my hand, which continued to hypnotically wipe at the counter-top.
“Dude, I think you've got that counter-top prettyclean by now. You've only been wiping it for the past, oh, ten minutes.”
I gave a chuckle, dipped my rag into the sanitizer bucket and wrung it out again.
“Sorry. Just a little mentally out of it.”
“Mm-hm. Just like you have been for the past week. I'd ask you what's on your mind, but I know you'll just mumble and bumble around and say 'I dunno'some more.”
