He knew his way around. He’d been here before. She couldn’t imagine paying for this place one night, much less multiple times.
Camille stepped inside a room that borrowed its theme from the suite’s outer area. Red leather chairs and a matching bed frame were happily situated amid the grandeur of old-world European elegance. The king-size bed, covered in a pink and red floral print, looked inviting.
“You look tired, Chéri.” Julian brushed Camille’s bangs out of her face. “Why don’t you rest for a bit?” He leaned against the doorframe, and the smile in his eyes glowed with a sensuous flame. “When Davis gets here, I’ll let you know.”
She exhaled a long sigh of admiration. Julian was respecting her space and not making demands or assumptions. His thoughtfulness was winning him points.
“All right.” She looked down and backed away from him. He turned and closed the door as he left.
A cry of relief broke from her lips. Thank god he’d left, before she had the chance to throw herself at him.
Julian returned to the suite’s living room and Soren handed him a scotch, straight up. He needed it. He was close, but any minute things could fall apart. Julian was a firm believer in Murphy’s Law. If something could go wrong, it would happen to him.
He drained the glass, set it on the marble-topped wet bar and moved toward the wall of windows overlooking the garden and the pool. The Nevada sky was in the midst of a desert twilight and the terrace lights were beginning to flicker on in a warm, subtle hue.
Soren was at his side instantly, handing him a refill. Julian took it and gave his valet a quick nod. “I think it’s going to work.”
“You have seen to every detail.”
“Yes, but sometimes that doesn’t help.” He shook his head and glanced out the window at the darkening sky and brightening poolside lights. “Things have a way of falling apart easily.”
“But you’re quite adept at not letting that happen,” Soren reminded him. “You think things through thoroughly. You see every aspect down to the last detail.” Soren paused, catching his breath. “I’m sure this will be no exception.”
“Well, Soren,” Julian said, “let’s hope you’re right.” The doorbell rang, grabbing both men’s attention. “I’ll get it,” Julian said, stepping in front of Soren and moving toward the door. Hopefully it was Davis.
Julian hurried across the room and opened the door. Davis greeted Julian with a handshake and a smile they only taught at law school.
Julian stepped back and gestured him inside the suite.
“I have the paperwork you’ve requested. It’s ready for signatures.”
“Can you get it filed today?” Julian asked, leading him to the wet bar.
“Yes, I can get it filed this evening.”
“Good.” Julian gestured to the counter. “You can prepare the papers, I’ll get Ms. Chandler.” He moved toward the hallway behind the dining area.
At Camille’s bedroom door, Julian knocked softly and waited for her vocal response. After the second knock, he heard her voice drift through the door. “Yes.”
“Chéri, may I come in?”
The door opened. Camille was in a bathrobe, her hair wet and clinging to her face. God, she looked sexy. Julian wanted to know what was under the robe. Nothing, he’d guess. He’d sure like to peel it off, discard it onto the floor and run his hands through her damp tresses before exploring every inch of her naked body.
She smiled, tousled her hair with a towel and gestured him inside. “I decided to take a shower.”
“The prenuptial agreement is here and waiting for our signatures. If we can sign it now, it can be filed directly and we are free to wed before leaving tomorrow. If that’s still your wish.”
He didn’t know what her wish was, but his was to have his way with her. But that wasn’t going to happen tonight. It would take some finesse to woo her into his bed.
“That is our deal,” she said. “I’ll just slip on some clothes and be right out.”
He wrenched himself away from his ridiculous fixation with her arresting body. His heart thudded a couple of times and then settled back to its natural rhythm. “Of course.” He backed out of the room and closed the door.
You idiot. Acting like a teenage boy who’d never seen a half-naked girl was not a winning attribute.
Julian forced himself back out into the common area where Soren and the attorney were waiting. He smiled and summoned his confidence. “She will be out directly. She’s changing clothes. You know how women are.”
Both Soren and Davis laughed. The attorney offered Julian a fountain pen. “You can sign now and we’ll get her signature when she comes out.”
Julian stepped forward and took the pen, turning his attention to the papers on the bar. Three sets. One for him. One for her. And one for the American courts. He picked up a copy and scanned it quickly but with expertise. Satisfied that it was all there just as he’d stipulated, he signed the copies one by one.
When he was done, Camille entered the room dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a skintight red t-shirt. She walked across the room with sunken shoulders, possibly self-conscious about her breast size. But Julian, being a leg man, was preoccupied with her long, shapely legs. They more than made up for her small breasts.
She moved to the bar, scooped up one of the documents and began reading it. She took her time reviewing each page carefully, and finally when she reached the end of the last page she looked at Davis. “So, this basically says if we stay married for at least six months, I’ll get five million dollars?”
“That is what it says in a nutshell.” Davis rubbed his nose.
“Good.” She grabbed a pen and signed the copy she’d been reading. Then she proceeded to compare it to each of the other two copies before signing them. Clearly, she didn’t trust people, and Julian wondered what made her so suspicious. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that people were always letting her down.
People, as a general rule, were unreliable. Julian knew that to be true. It had happened to him. It had happened to his mother—his real mother. She’d died, killed herself, when he was five. His father had remarried shortly thereafter, and it was as if his natural mother had never existed. Claudette, his stepmother, had taken her place, and even though she’d always loved Julian and Andre just as much as she’d loved her own child Lecie, Julian had never forgotten his real mother.