Chapter 24

I had a hard time playing it cool before the date. I at least got to keep busy with work, a rigorous onboarding process that involved meeting with people from half a dozen different departments, and I wondered how much was because they thought I was an invaluable hire and how much was because they thought I was a terrifying hire.

Either way, Cameron had made it very clear they'd lose her account if they didn't bring me on. I'd barely had to introduce myself to Allison Craig before she'd been tripping over herself to give me the position. But still, they weren't letting me off easy, and between that and a night out on the town with Ruth and a coaching session with Fitri, I was able to keep myself from working myself into a nervous fit over Cameron.

At least until I took her for a tour at a place downtown, and she had that look in her eyes like she was undressing me when I stepped out of the car to find her there by the building entrance.

"Hope I didn't keep you waiting," I said, offering her the coffee cup. "Oat milk latte?"

Her eyes twinkled a little as she took the cup. "Aren't we charming today? Arriving with gifts and everything."

"Figure I might build some suspense that way. Leave you antsy, waiting to see what I'm going to bring next time."

"Out of curiosity, what would you do if you'd showed up to find me holding a coffee?"

I laughed. "Drink two coffees this morning, I guess. Bounce off the walls through the tour. So let's be glad it hasn't come to that. Shall we head on in?" I nodded to the entrance plaza, faded red brick lined with palm trees and a fountain in the center, and she pushed off from the low white-brick wall to join me.

"I'd be delighted."

It was a beautiful place—one I'd strongarmed my new supervisor into running for her, with a tighter square footage and more rooftop access, and one of the best views I'd seen so far, a staggering vista looking out over the high-rises of Miami Beach and the water beyond. My supervisor had been upset we were looking at a measly forty-two million, but… they'd live.

And Cameron's face when we stepped out of the elevator and into the living room suite with its tiered plant walls and massive floor-to-ceiling windows, marble tones balanced by light wood and striking color on black accents—her face was worth all the arguments at the office.

"Not a bad place to wake up and see the sunrise," I said, gesturing to the crystal accents from the close wall to the hanging light display. "You can imagine the light, the color…"

"But you took me here after sunrise specifically so I'd have to come back to see it at its best." She ran her finger lightly along a countertop, and I suppressed the shudder down my spine at the sight. "Clever sales tactic."

"I can't be too shoddy at sales. Cat's gotta eat."

I loved the way she smiled, laughed like a little kid going through the tour—the way she lit up when I showed her some of the nicer features in the place. And no matter how much I tried to rein it in, I couldn't help wondering what it would look like seeing those things as her girlfriend. As the one she kept closest—being around her on a daily basis.

Ruth was right. The woman changed me. And impossibly, against all reason, I liked the woman Cameron Mercier had turned me into.

She was positively glowing once we ended the tour, standing at the railing—it had turned into a little tradition between the two of us, finishing at the railing, looking out over Miami—and she finished her coffee before she turned to me.

"I like it," she said. I stood up straighter.

"That's a different tone than usual. Are we on serious consideration now?"

"Hm." Her smile turned into something a little more distant as she turned to the horizon. "There's a big reason I can't sign quite yet."

"And that is…?"

"What do you think?" She stretched her arms out, speaking casually. "I'd have to stop having tours with you."

My throat tightened, but I just smiled at her. "Ah. That is a struggle. Then you'd have to just invite me over to your ritzy new home instead, and who knows what might happen then…"

Her eyes flared as she looked me over. "That's not normally how a real estate agent operates, is it?"

"I seem to recall something about looking for a very low-skilled private chef?"

She gave me that smile again—that one I only ever saw in private moments between us, that one where it felt like she was looking at the best thing she'd ever seen. "Someone to open some cans for me, yes. It's quite a tempting proposition…"

"Is that what tomorrow evening is, by chance? A canned food tour?"

She laughed, reaching out and tapping a finger to my lips. It left an electric charge tingling at the point of contact. "I told you not to try figuring out what it is. And now my canned tuna surprise is wasted."

"Well, that's a shame. I won't try to guess what the other cans are, then."

She winked, and honestly? It kind of left me breathless. "Just be a good girl and let me surprise you."

"Uh." So much for managing a smooth response. My face burned, and Cameron laughed, turning away.

"Well then. Shall we wrap it up here?"

Maybe I wasn't that different from her, because being outmaneuvered by her quick remarks was one hell of a turn-on.

My supervisor was relieved to hear Cameron was seriously considering the place—I left out the details—and eager to hurry it along, a whole line of other clients to get to that they wanted to move me through like an assembly line. I'd kind of forgotten what it was like—Pillar had been similar in its ruthless straight-to-action policy, and Queen Pearl's delicate, methodical touch of working long-term with a client, prioritizing the connection over the sale, had been a breath of fresh air. Leon was more mass-market, more industrialized—push the clients through to the end result and help fund the development division.

Made me wonder, a little bit, what all of this came down to. What the point of the work was. One of those situations where you started to see through the bullshit and wonder what the point of your job was, other than to keep a roof over your own head. But I was just grateful to have something right now, and praying Leon wouldn't find some weird, catastrophic failure like the series of burning husks I'd left behind me.

Still, it was clear they weren't going to give me much longer with Cameron. At some point they'd dismiss her as someone just there to kick tires and get nice tours, and they'd probably throw me out with her. But I wasn't letting it spoil what was between us right now.

It was a luncheon the next day with Ruth and some of our mutual friends—including our former coworker Marco and his tall, well-built friend Damien who Ruth was all but drooling over for the entire time—when I left early, thanking everyone for the time and excusing myself. Ruth caught me at the door, a smile on her lips.

"Going to catch your girlfriend now?"

"Trust me, if she were my girlfriend, you'd have heard about it."

"Still didn't tell you where she's taking you?"

I shrugged. "I'd go anywhere if she's taking me."

She raised her eyebrows, just shy of laughter. I looked away, my face prickling.

"I didn't mean for that to sound so romantic…"

"Damn, this side of you is fun to see. Well, have fun. I expect to hear about it. Tomorrow at the earliest, of course."

She winked, turning away, and she tripped over her own foot, nearly falling flat on her face—stumbling a few steps and catching herself on a table, half the café looking at her. I suppressed a laugh.

"Always when I'm talking to London," she muttered, and that hardly seemed fair, now, did it? I still loved her, though.

I paced my apartment for a while spilling my nerves to Earl—like I'd lost my mind talking to the cat, but hell, I was allowed to lose my mind over Cameron Mercier—and even though she'd told me to just wear whatever, I'd changed my outfit three times before I finally got the text that she was at my building. I took the steps two at a time, my heart in my mouth, and when I got down to the garage under the complex, I nearly tripped over my own feet at the sight of Cameron Mercier wildly outdressing me in a luxurious, silky gown in that soft blue she wore so well, stunning crystal accents and studded heels dressing it up until it looked like something she'd wear to a dinner with the President.

"You're quick," she said, leaning against her car. "Standing right at the door waiting for my text?"

I wasn't admitting to that. "You tell me to wear whatever and you show up in that? Where are we going, the opera?"

She laughed. "Mm-hm."

"The— seriously? " I gestured to myself, a loose blouse with slacks, a nice outfit but not opera nice.

"It's not until late." She offered me a hand. "So maybe I got jealous at the idea of someone else taking you dress shopping, and I wanted to take you to find an outfit for the opera."

I was going to have to step up my dating game if I wanted remotely any chance with this woman. I laughed, breathlessly, taking her hand and letting her lead me to the passenger side. "Christ, woman. I just took you for dinner."

"Well, if you want to try your hand at another date… I'll let you ask and we'll see what the answer is."

Dammit, she was good.

I slipped into the passenger seat alongside her, and I felt giddy, nervous, like a teenager sneaking out of her parents' house for a date—the whole thing almost clandestine in a way that thrilled through my body. Cameron gave me a loaded look as she started the car, turning back to the windshield.

"You can put on some music for the drive."

"I've been getting into EDM…" I took the cable and plugged my phone in, and we drove smoothly out of the complex, turning onto where the streets were starting to dim, a dreamy indigo coming down over everything. Cameron and I made small talk on the way—just little things like work and the city, and it wasn't long before we pulled into the lot behind a small shop that looked nothing like I'd have expected from somewhere Cameron Mercier would go. Honestly—the place looked a little seedy, squeezed in on a half-basement level under a noodle bar. I gave her a quick look, and she smiled slyly.

"Anya's a good friend of mine. We can trust her."

Well, I wasn't questioning her. This woman knew what she was doing. "Lead the way," I said, unbuckling.

She led me to the shop, just far enough apart for plausible deniability, and down the stairs into a dimly lit shop with clothes squeezed in on racks too tight to actually see what was there, mostly dresses, some coats. A brassy old bell jingled overhead when we walked in, and from the looks of things, we were the only ones here.

"Anya!" Cameron called. A rummaging came from the back, and a beat-up wood door swung open to where a woman maybe in her early fifties came through, light-toned skin with pale blonde hair pulled back into a sloppy bun. Cameron relaxed. "Anya, I was wondering if you were still alive down in your basement."

Anya shook her head, tutting. "Some of us have been working, Cameron. And some of us have been off playing with girls."

Cameron laughed, shaking her head before she turned to me. "London, this is Anya. As far as tailors go, you can't do better in Miami. Probably can't do better outside Miami, either."

Anya rolled her eyes. "Save your flattery."

"Anya, this is London… I believe I've mentioned her."

I felt my ears burn, just a little. Something about meeting Cameron's friends gave me butterflies. "Have you?" I said, giving Cameron a sidelong look before turning back to Anya. "Give it to me straight. How much has she complained about me?"

Anya let out a low chuckle, looking me over. "Oh, quite a bit. Almost nonstop every time we've talked lately…"

"Anya," Cameron said, looking away.

"Hm." I put a hand on my hip. "Talking about my sleazy salespersonship, about my dreadful cooking skills…"

"The whole kit and caboodle." She beamed. "So… outfit for the opera, is it?"

"Apparently. She didn't tell me where we were going until she showed up at my place…"

"Cameron," Anya said, sounding almost scandalized, looking at where Cameron was giving me a playful look. "Where did you get that mischievous streak?"

"Oh, who knows?" Cameron said, not taking her eyes off me. I felt like my feet wouldn't touch the ground.

"You're a bad influence, London," Anya said, shaking her head again. "Well, let's get you dressed up. You're definitely an autumn… might be able to put you in a real red. Ever gotten tailoring before?"

"Are you just—" I scrunched up my face. "Are you just tailoring a dress for me right here and now?"

Anya smiled wider, the apples of her cheeks popping. "I see she didn't tell you that part, either. Just some quick alterations so we're not here all day, but otherwise, yes."

Cameron was such a… such a fairytale. I hadn't even dared to dream of this kind of thing since I was a little kid. There were so many parts of me straining against the idea, willing me to refuse, to say I couldn't possibly accept it, but I'd be a flaming liar if I said I didn't want it.

"Never had the pleasure before," I said, relaxing. "I'm so out of the loop I don't even know what it means to be an autumn, except that my birthday's in spring."

Again, Anya tutted, giving Cameron a look. "You tell her anything before you bring her in?"

Cameron gave her the sweetest, most innocent smile. "I've told her she looks good in red."

I felt myself burn. Anya did not need to know about me in the red Venusian Sunset. And all the other things Cameron did with me in it.

Anya took me through the shop in a whirlwind of quick chatter, a lot of back-and-forth conversations between her and Cameron that I couldn't begin to follow. I was starting to feel like an actual model, the two of them holding dresses up to me and lining up color swatches next to me, looking at me from every angle and casually talking about my curves. Anya measured me with swift, exacting precision, and they went through a set of dresses until they both looked at one in a rich, stunning crimson with a sweeping sweetheart neckline, more intricate detailing than I could keep track of at a subtly gathered hem, the skirt with just enough structure to create a dramatic silhouette, subtle lace accenting over the fabric in places creating a bustier effect. They exchanged an approving nod before showing me to the mirror, holding the dress up to my body.

"Well?" Anya said.

I swallowed. Maybe I was an autumn, whatever that meant. "It's gorgeous."

"Then I can get started, finally," she said, sweeping off to the back, leaving us with no fanfare in the quiet of the shop, smelling like old wood mixing with the intoxicating aroma of Cameron's perfume, subtle tonight but still maddening. In the quiet of the shop, she sidled closer to me, looking over a rack of dresses, occupying herself running her hand reverently over the fabric.

"She likes you," she said. I arched an eyebrow.

"As much as she likes anybody?"

"Oh, please," she laughed, glancing at me with eyes sparkling. "No need to coach it. She adores you."

"Called me a bad influence."

"You are." She only smiled wider, though, inching closer, her side brushing mine. Her gaze flicked down to my lips and back up to meet mine, and time seemed to stop there like that, not a sound but my heart pounding, nothing but…

" Bad influence, " I laughed, slipping randomly out of my mouth. "If getting someone a tailored dress to go to the opera together is your idea of causing trouble, I can't imagine what being good looks like."

She licked her lips, her eyes drifting down to my mouth again before turning away. "You know exactly what being a good girl looks like for me. And exactly how I like to forget it."

I swallowed. "I guess I see what you mean… what you meant, back in LIV."

"Oh, yes?" She raised an eyebrow, smiling lightly at me.

"You said when it comes to being free, independent… you're still a work in progress. Thought then there was no way that was true." I looked away. "But I see it."

"Calling me a work in progress doesn't sound… entirely flattering," she said.

I laughed, the sound coming from nowhere as I looked back at her. "It is to me. I think what it really means is that… is that you don't stop making progress. And that's very attractive." I felt my face prickle with a blush, and I dropped my gaze to the floor. "More than that. It's… breathtaking."

"You really are trouble," Cameron breathed, and my heart jumped when she raised a hand to my face and caressed my cheek.

"Isn't that why you keep me around?" I said, putting my hand over hers, just… feeling her on me, against me. Needing her closer.

She laughed. "You win, sweetheart. I take it back. You're definitely a good influence. Very…" Her voice faded, her expression turning into something more serious, more intense, looking at me like she was seeing me for the first time. My breath came shorter as she moved, closer, the distance between us so small but too far by miles. "Very, very good influence."

"Well?" I said, my voice strained with nerves. I felt her presence through every inch of my body. "Which is it?"

She laughed. "Truth be told? Probably both. And I'm okay with that."

She cupped her hand over my cheek, and moving like a sigh of relaxation, she fell into me, her lips met mine, and it was enough to dismantle me—a searing sensation through my body like fireworks going off, like sparklers crackling and sizzling, and at the same time, something so easy, so soft, so right, like a favorite comfort meal, like a warm fire at night, like… like coming home.

And then it ended all too soon, as she pulled away quickly, a soft blush over her cheeks as she looked away.

"Getting ahead of myself," she said, her voice small, laced with frustration. "I… apologize. Let's carry on as if that didn't just happen."

I wasn't going to spend a single moment of my life pretending that hadn't happened. But for Cameron's sake, maybe I could act like I would tonight.