Chapter 2

"You realize I only agree to this because you made some very valid points, don't you?" "I do, and I cannot tell you how grateful I am," Camelia told the giant in the art world with a charming smile. "I understand these pieces are slated for the museum?"

"Precisely." Jackson smiled at the beautiful woman who reminded him so much of his wife and felt his heart going out to her. The rumors had started back up again, but he was relieved to see that she was holding her own. "We…"His voice trailed off. and he felt the knot of tension uncoiling inside his stomach.

"You were saying?" Camelia was unaware that the conversation in the large space had dropped significantly, and people had turned to look at the couple walking toward them.

"I – er- Christ, I am sorry, Camelia, I didn't know he was going to be here." "Who-" But before she turned around, she knew she was going to come face to face with the man who had been such an integral part of her life in the past. She had prepared herself for it, but somehow it had not been enough.

Steeling herself to act normally and aware that they were being curiously observed, she turned and felt her heart taking a slow dive. He was handsome, breathtakingly handsome. When he was a teenager, he had allowed his thick honey-blonde hair to grow a little past his shoulders, but now it was stylishly groomed and cut to his nape.

His face was all angles and planes, and she recalled teasing him that he could be a model. Dragging her eyes away from him, she noticed the stunning petite brunette clinging to his arms, light blue eyes watching her coolly.

"Hayes and Simone. How nice to see you." Jackson had no damn idea what to do. He could not very well introduce them unless he would be introducing Simone, which would be the height of awkwardness.

"Jackson." Hayes solved the problem by turning to rake the woman standing next to his friend with an indifferent gaze. "Camelia, how are you?"

"I am fine, thank you." The scrupulously polite attitude between them sounded unreal.

"I heard you were back."

"Yes." She wanted to get away and fast.

"It's surprising that you are." Simone spoke up when it became clear that neither of the men was going to introduce her. "Considering the scandal you left behind." Jackson wanted to clout the woman over the head for her deliberately insensitive remark.

"It happens to be my home, and what happened is in the past." She glanced briefly at Hayes before turning a cool and haughty glance at the woman.

"All in the past. Every aspect of it." Turning back to Jackson, she smiled at him, touching his arm briefly. "I will just go and have a chat with Jerri and Jason and will be in touch with you soon." Without looking at the couple, she walked away.

"Well," Simone huffed, blue eyes blazing. "Who does she think she is?"

"A woman who went through a lot and came out guns blazing." Jackson gave her a scornful look. "She certainly does not need reminders of any of it. I am sure it's living inside her as it is." With a cool nod to Hayes, he walked away as well.

"Hayes, I–"

"Forget it," He told her brusquely; his evening had already gone to hell. "Let's go mingle, shall we?"

He watched her flitting around the room, chatting to mutual acquaintances but mostly sticking with Jerri, Jackson, and Jason. She seemed to have forgotten he was there and unaffected by his presence in the room.

While he was so acutely aware of her, he could barely stand it. Even though he was trying not to look at her, he could not stop his gaze from straying to the corner of the room where she was.

He had hated that remark that Simone had uttered and thought it was vicious and uncalled for. She had grown more beautiful, he realized this was something that was not surprising. Her face was round, her forehead high and intelligent. When she smiled, it was to reveal two large dimples and dazzlingly white teeth.

He had told her the dimples and her lips were her best assets, but he was wrong. Her eyes had a depth to them that made one feel as if she was staring into their very souls, and her complexion was stunning.

The dress she had on was some sort of floral material that flared at the waist and hugged her generous bosom lovingly. Her thick, dark brown hair was braided and wrapped around her head, making one aware of her long, graceful neck.

"Hayes?"

Grabbing another champagne from the passing waiter, he realized he had barely spoken two words to the woman he had brought along with him.

"Yes?"

"What do you think?" As if aware she had displeased him in some way, Simone kept her tone light.

"It's lovely." Focusing his attention on her, he turned to look at the piece, admiring the brilliant stroke of the brush on the canvas. "Very appealing. But it's not one of Jackson's works."

"It's not." She seemed pleased to see that he was out of whatever it was that was making him so moody as if she didn't already know. "It's a new artist. Jerome, someone."

"Thinking of acquiring it for the museum?"

"For my own collection. What do you think?"

"Don't you already have enough pieces?" he asked teasingly.

Simone laughed softly, tucking her hand through his arm and happy to see his mood changing. "One can't have too much art."

*****

Camelia had never acted so much in her life. She was constantly aware of his presence and did her best to ignore the pull that had always been there between them.

"Excuse me, please," she told the group with a smile and made her way from the room. She needed air. It felt as if she was suffocating.

Pushing the glass doors open, she stepped out onto the balcony and leaned against the rails, breathing in the fresh air. Thank God the heat had dissipated. September had come in with humidity and heat as if the summer was refusing to depart.

She had almost refused Celeste's order to attend the gallery opening because she was not yet ready to face society. But she had been determined to get it over and done with. She couldn't hide forever.

A sigh escaped her when she heard the doors sliding open. She was about to turn around and leave when she stiffened. In the past, she always knew when he was around. It was not just the scent of his cologne; during that time, they had been so acutely aware of each other that it had been uncanny.

Taking a deep breath, she turned to face him.

"I was just going back inside," she lied; hands clenched at her sides.

"Were you?" There was a cynical twist to his lips that had her staring. "Why did you come?"

"I am doing a piece on the artworks–"

"Why did you come back to town? Why not stay in Europe?"

Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin. "It happens to be my home, and it was time." "Why?" he persisted, taking a few steps toward her.

Camelia forced herself to stay where she was, even though every instinct inside her was screaming at her to run. "That's none of your business."

"You left so abruptly, without saying anything, just left and cut off all communications with the people in your life." His green gaze swept over her face. "And now you are back."

"You know why I did." Her gaze was pleading. "It was too much, and my aunt… she wanted us to leave immediately."

"Did she also advise you not to keep in touch?"

"I did that all on my own."

He had thought she could not hurt him any more than she already did, but he was wrong.

"I see."

"It was for the best."

"For whom?"

"For both of us." Taking a deep breath, she continued. "What we had was just a high school romance–" She backed away from him as she saw the dangerous glitter in his green eyes.

"Was that all it was to you?"

"Yes," she lied, her heart breaking in two at the bitter look on his face. She just wanted to get away from him and go home. Seeing him again, coming face to face with him, had confirmed what she had feared. She was still desperately in love with him, and that was not going to change.

"If you would excuse me—" She gasped when his fingers dug into her arms.

"You said you loved me. Remember that first time, Camelia? When I was about to take your innocence? You declared your love for me and told me there would never be another. How many has there been since you have been gone?"

"It's none of your business–"She cried out softly when his fingers dug into her flesh.

"How many? You owe me that, at least."

"I don't owe you anything. Please let go of me."

"Not until you tell me what I need to know."

"At least three," she lied desperately. "Now, please let go of me."

He did so slowly, stepping back, his face hard and taut, his eyes cold. "I suppose it was all for nothing. That's why it was so easy for you to leave."

"We were little more than children. Words spoken then were not significant. We have moved past all of that, and each of us has a different life now. Please get out of my way; I am sure your date is wondering where you have gone off to. I understand felicitations are in order. You are almost engaged?"

"Yes." Stepping aside, he made way for her to move past him. "Camelia?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for clearing things up."

Without a word, she stepped through the open doors and was gone, leaving her perfume lingering in the air.

Walking over to the railing, he leaned against it and took several deep fortifying breaths. He had seen her leave the room and told himself that he just wanted to talk, to get some explanation from her, even though he knew deep down it was not a good idea.

She had moved on long before he did. The girl who had promised him forever had said it in the heat of passion. It had not meant anything to her.

Nothing more than a fling. While he had been frozen in time, unable to move on. Weeks after she left, he had stayed inside his room, not wanting to be with anyone. He had forsaken his friends and spent the time gazing at the photos he had taken of her, of them during the two years they had been together.

They had been labeled the 'golden couple,' not just because of his blonde hair but because of how attached they were to each other. Life had been great; they had been young and idealistic, making plans to be together in the future.

They talked about children and their careers. She would become a director like her dad, and he would take over the company from him. They were going to travel of course, right after graduation, they would take off for Europe and come back in time for college. They were careful, not wanting to add a baby to the mix.

"We are going to enjoy being together before that happens," he had told her firmly. "I want to spend as much time as I can with you. I am selfish that way."

And she had agreed. When he heard the awful news about her parents, he rushed to her side immediately, ignoring warnings from his own parents when they said he was going to be caught in the backlash.

But he had not cared about that. All he wanted was to be with her, to absorb her pain and assure her that it was going to be okay. But it had all been a lie, at least, on her part.

Easing away from the balcony, he took another breath. It was time to finally let go of the past.

*****

Plucking the wine from the cooler, Camelia took the full bottle with her into the living room. She had spent thirty minutes getting home blasting the music in her vehicle so she did not have to think.

And it had worked—to a point. It had also kept the tears at bay. A few years ago, she had talked to herself about getting back on her feet and starting living her life again.

That includes no longer soaking her pillows every night as she pined for a man she had lost. But seeing him tonight, feeling him against her, the scent of his cologne, the vibrancy of his body so near to hers, the feel of his hands on her arms had affected her, making her long for him.

Pouring the wine into the glass, she put away the bottle and took a huge swallow, almost choking. She had lied to him; she had to, of course. It was no use stirring up memories and going down memory lane. It didn't matter how she was feeling or the fact that she was still in love with him.

Settling back against the cushions, she closed her eyes and allowed the painful, poignant memories to float inside her head.

She had met him when she transferred from the all girls' school when she was fifteen and had been mad at her parents for making the change.

"I am going to be leaving all my friends," she cried. "I love it here and there are only two years left for high school. I want to stay."

She had pleaded with both parents, leaning more toward her dad, who had always called her his princess and spoiled her rotten. "Daddy, please. I don't want to leave."

"We are moving in the area and traveling to school from where we are now would be inconvenient. You are going to love it darling; you'll see." She had been prepared to hate it with a passion and had gone that first day with a preconceived notion of what it would be like.

But her dad had been right. It was a school for elite society children and only the very wealthy could afford to send their children there.

She had been accepted as one of them because her parents were famous. It was during her second day, and she had just plopped into her seat in homeroom when she felt someone sliding into the seat beside her. She had kept her attention straight ahead, unwilling to speak to anyone.

"My name is Hayes."

Stifling the impatience at the interruption, she turned her head and had to stop herself from gasping out loud. He was gorgeous. All thick blonde hair and twinkling green eyes. And he was also head of the football, rugby, tennis, and basketball teams. She had heard his name whispered on lips with a reverence she found amusing.

"This is the part where you tell me yours," he had pointed out helpfully.

Determined not to fall under his spell, she had given him a haughty look she had perfected over the years. "Camelia."

"Just Camelia?"

"Yes." Turning away from him, she deliberately opened her book, almost sighing with relief when the teacher started the lesson.

But he had found her during lunch, and as soon as he approached, people made way for him, leaving them alone.

"Do you usually have that effect on people?" she asked him coolly, taking out her ham and cheese sandwich.

"They knew I wanted to spend time alone with the prettiest girl in the school."

Giving him a scornful look, she took a sip of her water. "Does that usually work on the females?"

"I am guessing it's not working on you?"

"Not at all."

"What else can I do?"

"You can go away and try the tired line on someone else." She looked around the full cafeteria and found that they were the cynosure of every eye. "Or have you done that already with all of them and I am the only person left to try it out on?"

"You don't have a very high opinion of me, do you?"

"I don't have any opinion at all. I don't know you."

"Exactly. You are judging me without knowing who I am. Shall we start over?" His charming smile had butterflies fluttering inside her stomach. "I am Hayes Marsden." Ignoring his outstretched hand, she eyed him curiously. "You are wasting your time."

"It's mine to waste. And I will continue to do so until you see me."

And he had. Hayes Marsden had pursued her relentlessly, and no matter what she had done or said, he had not stopped until he had managed to break her resolve. Very soon, they had become a couple and inseparable.

Wiping the tears streaming down her cheeks, she sat up and poured more wine. She could not stop the memories from trickling into her subconscious.

And she did not want to. For years she had spent time tucking them safely into the far recesses of her brain so that she could survive, and she had had to survive. But now she was giving them free rein.

Their first time had been on an icy winter night, three months after their first meeting. He had met her parents and had charmed them into accepting him, which, of course, had not been difficult, considering he was a Marsden and incredibly wealthy.

She had met his, too, but it had been the opposite. His mother had been reticent and suspicious, and his dad had been cool toward her.

When she mentioned it to Hayes, he dismissed her fears instantly by saying they liked her.

"They are just protective of their only child."

Their first time had happened at her place of course, because her parents were always out and had no reservations about leaving her to her own devices. The maids had been given the time off.

He had told his parents he was crashing with friends; whether they believed him was another matter.

"I know it's not your first time," Camelia told him as they entered her very feminine bedroom with the green and lilac décor.

"And if I had known I would be meeting the love of my life, I would have stayed pure," he said sincerely. "I cannot change my past, Cammy." It was his pet name for her and he was the only one allowed to call her that.

"I am just wondering if I am one in a long line of girls."

He had been wounded at that. "Is that what you think of me? Haven't I proven myself to you over these months?"

"Months being the operative word," she had insisted. "I am about to give you my prized virginity, not knowing if you will move on when the novelty has worn off. You are the most popular boy in school, certainly the richest, and girls are lining up to be with you."

"Your popularity is not too far from mine," he had reminded her.

"That's because when they look at me, they see my parents."

"Is that what you think?" He had turned her toward the full-length mirror. "Look at what Isee, Cammy. You are beautiful, witty, and not afraid to speak your mind."

"I am also black and certainly not a size two."

"You are the most beautiful woman in the world to me, and I would like you to believe that."

She had turned to him then, desperate to feel him against her. She had been kissed several times before by inept schoolboys who possessed more enthusiasm than expertise, and she had often found the act distasteful.

But it was not that way with Hayes. The first time they kissed was on the football field after practice. The others had left them in the gathering dusk. Flushed from the game, he swept her up against him and kissed her.

She had started to push him away when his arms came around her, and his mouth softened. Camelia could still feel the tremors inside her, the passion unfurling and building, until her arms were around his neck, and she was pressing against him in eager submission.

She was five foot eight, but even at the age of fifteen, Hayes was over six feet tall.

Shaking her head, she sat up on the sofa and finished the wine. She couldn't go back to that moment. And it was time to let it go.