Chapter 4

I did exactly as I was supposed to, and I thought about her.

I stayed home from work on Monday, doing the important work of shopping at a Cameron Mercier outlet store. It felt surreal heading up to the small place, black-and-pink stylings with brocade and script letters reading Cameron Mercier over the door, knowing Cameron Mercier was the name of a real person I was going to meet tomorrow and—more than that—that I'd kissed her assistant in a club. And very nearly had sex with her.

And being in the store was hardly going to take my thoughts off of Amelie. The whole place smelled a little like her perfume, too—floral and subtly woody, dark and mature and elegant. The front of the store was all decent displays, but it just took stepping behind the first rack to see the displays of lingerie, mannequins dressed up and arranged in provocative poses.

I'd come here to do research before meeting the client. Going to meet Cameron Mercier herself without even owning a single piece of Cameron Mercier lingerie was a sin. But there was another reason I needed a set, a reason I wasn't acknowledging.

Amelie had promised to wear her best, too. I could only imagine Cameron Mercier's personal assistant had an… impressive lingerie collection. And it gave me shudders down to my core just thinking about it.

I'd spent all morning researching everything I could about Cameron Mercier, the person and the brand, and about lingerie in general. And I'd found myself blushing at my computer like I was a teenager, picking out a lot of… well, styles that I liked. And things I was deathly curious to know if they suited me.

My heart in my mouth, I dared to run a hand over the fabric of the lace bra I'd stopped in front of—impossibly soft, silky, delicate. And I wondered what Amelie would look like in it.

Dammit. I was having problems. And they didn't get any better after I'd finally bought a set, gotten home, and with a nervous tangle in my gut, changed into them, staring at myself in the full-length mirror in my bedroom.

I'd never in my life thought to wear lingerie before. I think I'd kind of just dismissed it as something guys made their girlfriends wear. But I really liked the way I looked in these—a tidy balconette bra with elegant lace cups and slim panties with an intricate garter belt that took me a while to figure out how to hook it to the stockings, but it was… rewarding.

At the sound of Earl scratching at the door, I felt my face burn, and I stripped myself out of the lingerie, changing back into my real clothes as quickly as possible, hiding the lingerie like it was a dirty secret.

It was just for research. Just research on the client.

And I'd have to pray I wasn't seeing Amelie tomorrow.

∞∞∞

"Juan, have I told you that you look great today?"

He gave me a sarcastic smile. "Tell me what you want, acere. You try to butter me up and I get mad."

I sank against the cabin doorway, the yacht slowly bobbing in the waves around me. "Just to make sure this is the smoothest damn ride you've ever given anyone."

"Nervous?" Juan—the boat driver who always helped us when we went to our boat rental of choice—craned his neck back to me. "Doesn't suit you, London."

"This is Cameron Mercier we're meeting today. I'm a little intimidated."

"Just remember, acere, she's asking you for help. With something you know how to do. No easier thing than that. Just do it like you'd do for anyone else."

"Yeah, it's one thing to say that, but I'll be damned, Juan, we're pulling out stops I didn't even know we had. I mean—" I gestured above us. "A meal by sunset on a yacht? Adam Garcia didn't get that."

"It's your taste of the high life, then. Enjoy it. Ah, you kids always want to find something to complain about." He turned back to the controls, and just as well—I stopped complaining just in time to hear footsteps striking down the wood planks of the pier, and I heard María's voice calling to her.

"Miss Cameron, it's wonderful to finally meet you in person," she said, her voice glowing.

"A pleasure. You're taller in person."

"That's my mother you're looking for. She's barely five foot. I don't know how I happened. Miss Cameron—"

"Please, just Cameron is fine."

Juan gestured me towards the pier. "I'm thinking that's your cue."

"If this goes badly, can you stage an accident and drown me?"

"Would love to help, but María wouldn't hire me anymore if I did."

He made a valid point. With a sinking feeling in my gut, I steadied myself and repeated in my head I'm a professional, I know what I'm doing, and this is going to be like any other time, and I stepped out of the cabin and into the evening warmth and golden-red sunset light that spilled over the bay, and I leaned over the railing to where Cameron Mercier, in the flesh, stood there at the edge of the dock with María.

Thank god, Amelie wasn't here. Cameron herself was still deadly intimidating, though—she was a stunning woman with a chic choppy blonde bob and brilliant blue eyes, and she exuded that kind of intense self-assuredness that made it feel obvious to fall in line with her. With a crisp white suit and low heels, she was right in the cross-section of high fashion and a power look, and I just prayed my look was up to snuff.

"Ah, finally, she shows herself," María said, looking back at me. "Cameron, I've taken the liberty of assigning my best agent to your case, but just don't tell the other agents I said that, all right? This is London Sinclair."

Cameron looked at me, and she tensed, her throat muscles tightening so much I could see it from here. A cold panic rushed through me, making my ears ring.

There was no explanation for that kind of reaction. Not unless Amelie had told her about me. But— why? It didn't make any sense.

Not unless… I'd been trying to scout out Amelie there for recon, buttering her up. But Cameron Mercier was a smart woman. And maybe we'd had our own tactics turned against us. If Amelie had been there specifically to draw me in—and if that was why she flagged me down, why she came onto me so hard—

I had to pray I just looked a lot like someone Cameron hated. Otherwise, we were all royally screwed.

"Miss Mercier," I said, opening the gate and offering her a handshake from the side of the yacht. "It's an honor to meet you. You can call me London."

"Charmed…" She ignored my outstretched hand. I was dead in the water.

I shut down the panic voices screeching in my head. I hadn't done anything wrong. I felt chemistry with a woman in a bar. I hadn't even given any clues that I knew she was connected to Cameron. All Amelie could have gotten from me was the way I flirted, and there was nothing wrong with being attracted to someone flirting with me. This would only be a problem if I made it a problem. If I acted like everything was fine, she'd relax. I had this. I was a professional.

I smiled, turning my handshake offer into a gesture along the yacht. "I hope you don't get seasick, Miss Mercier? We'll be taking a ride across to Miami Beach to get to the property, and María took the leisure of providing a meal and some champagne for the trip. If it's no problem with you, I'd love to sit and discuss more of what you're looking for in your new home."

She studied me for a second before her expression flared—not in the way I'd been afraid of, but into a dangerous smile, eyes narrowed. "Could I really live in Miami if I were prone to seasickness?" she said, relaxing her shoulders a little.

"Touché." I offered her my hand again. "Shall we?"

She grasped my wrist firmly, and I held onto hers, helping her onto the boat. María gave me an acknowledging nod, raising her voice as the wind picked up, tossing the taste of the ocean across my lips.

"If you need anything, have any questions at all," she said, "London will be happy to assist you. Of course—I'm available as well, but I have to be honest, London is quite a bit smarter than I am, so you're better off asking her."

She was flattering me. Or more likely, she just didn't want Cameron bothering her while she was working.

We pulled slowly away from the pier—Juan took it gently, thank god—and Cameron cast her eyes past me, out to the ocean. My heart still hammering, I gestured her to the steps.

"Join me up top?"

"Gladly."

There was something dangerous I couldn't read in her tone, and I had no idea what was going on, but—it made my heart race. My throat felt tight, and I had a hard time breathing. I forced myself to steady, reminding myself I knew what I was doing, but it felt more uncertain than ever.

Maybe everything Amelie had said had thrown me off. Maybe now I was questioning too much if I was supposed to be a good girl or not.

I led Cameron up to the top deck, where I showed her to a seat at the rear, and I sat next to her, straightening as the yacht attendant came out of the cabin right on cue, bringing us champagne flutes and two small plates of appetizers. He disappeared again with nothing more than an enjoy yourselves, and I returned my attention to Cameron, who picked up her champagne flute, holding it delicately as she looked out to the ocean opening up before us, golden-red sunset spilling out across the water.

"You spared no expense with impressing me, I see," she said. She had that air around her that I'd seen on a good number of people—the ones who didn't want the typical customer-service face. I relaxed.

"If I'm being honest, yours is the largest job I've ever taken on. So I'll admit I've done everything I can trying to impress you. Let me know if it's working."

It did the trick—I got a small, easy smile out of her, turning back to me with a playful look, but there was something else there, too. Something more dangerous.

"Well," she said. "You're taking on all kinds of adventures, aren't you?"

I blinked. "Er… what do you mean?"

She set down her glass with a tired sigh, a dry smile on her lips. "So, I suppose I wasn't the only one using a fake name, was I? Cara."

My stomach lurched so hard it felt like I'd pitch forward. A wave of dizziness hit me hard, and I had to work to catch my breath again.

Those crisp blue eyes—a halo of sea-green on the inner ring of her irises.